


The Cure

by Deathcomes4u



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bondage, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Light Dom/sub, Multi, PNP, Slash, Smut, Sticky, Threesomes, Torture, greivous bodilly harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 215,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathcomes4u/pseuds/Deathcomes4u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bumblebee takes a hit for Prowl, neither of them are prepared for the doctor's orders. In the end, its probably the best medication either has ever had.<br/>Bumblebee finds out just what a good relationship is supposed to be like... but it can't be normal to suddenly be the center of a fragging war, can it?<br/>Sideswipe and Sunstreaker aren't known for making things easier on a bot though. And just when Bumblebee thought it couldn't get any more complicated, all his ex's decide to show up.</p><p>(This story has a crack plot, but it's a soap opera crossed with a porno, with giant alien robots as the actors. With that in mind, please enjoy)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My Beautiful Kaitie. I will always love you.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+Beautiful+Kaitie.+I+will+always+love+you.).



> Reposting this from my FF.net account. I will not repost my authors notes for the curent chapters, but beyond that I may add some, and they may or may not be the same as the ones I post on subsequent FF.net updates.
> 
> Just a little history, I started this story July 2009, and it is the longest fic I have ever undertaken.  
> Through writing it, I have developed more confidence in my sexuality. Being bisexual, I always felt restricted by social standards. This fic has been a massive middle finger to those standards, and a means for me to display a more utopian idea of normalised multi-partner relationships.  
> This is somewhat hilarious seeing as I'm a virgin who has never had a relationship, but a girl can dream.
> 
> What is more, this fic brought me together with my girl Kaitie, and she has been such a huge influence on this story and me that I dedicate the whole thing to her. She is woven into it's very core, and it would not have gotten as far as it has already without her.  
> I would also like to thank Laura, TV, Rivian, Eels, and Tanja. They have greatly influenced my writing, head canon and story ideas/ characterisations the past few years. Love to all of you ^.^
> 
> While the momentum behind each chapter has slowed rather a lot since it's conception, I am absolutely determined in my effort to complete it. Since it is now at least two thirds complete, I feel confident it's completion will be realised. When, I cannot be sure. But if you ever feel i am neglecting it too much, you may poke me at my deviantart or ff.net, my username is the same there, Deathcomes4u.  
> You will also find art of this and some of my other fics at my DA.
> 
> I will leave you now to your reading, but I would also like to make note that the theme song for this fic is 'Resistance' by Muse.  
> And by the way, every chapter of this is driven by music, because that is what my muse eats.
> 
> Hope you enjoy yourself ^.^
> 
> ~Death Out.
> 
> P.S: Have a key of terms and text type~
> 
> ITALICS - emphasis, thought or recorded voice (context should be easy to figure out)
> 
> BOLD - comm. speak
> 
> nanoklik= 0.5 of an earth second
> 
> astrosecond= 1.5 earth seconds
> 
> klik= about a minute
> 
> breem= 8 minutes
> 
> cycle= about 1 earth hour
> 
> megacycle= about 12 hours
> 
> joor= about one earth day
> 
> orn= 8 earth days
> 
> vorn= 80 earth years
> 
> Stellar-cycle= fraggin' long time

"PROWL!"

It was all the warning he received… a quick shout and a hearty shove that toppled him right over.

"WHAT IN THE PIT BUMBLEBEE?"

The furious tactician yelled back over the sounds of the battle raging around them. He had been an astrosecond from taking out Soundwave, and just as his sights lined up and his digit squeezed the trigger the mini bot had yelled and ran into him.

And now all slagging hell was reigning down on what HAD been his well concealed sniper location.

"Slag…" he let the rare expletive slip as he grabbed the smaller mech by the shoulder joint and dragged him back into the cover of the caves he had situated himself near for just such an occurrence. He was a tactician after all, and as there had been a 31.4% chance that he could be discovered, he had made sure he had somewhere to escape to.

However, if he had expected the 'cons to bring the fight to him in his hiding holes, he was sorely (and rarely) mistaken.

As the Decepticons ceased firing on him while he pulled further back into the expanding depth of the underground cave system, he felt a nagging buzz start to grow in the back of his processor.

His battle computer worked overtime, making new calculations as his comms stretched to assess how their defences and offences were currently holding up, and consequently he paid little heed to his own current situation or the sudden, slight hitches in his small comrade's intakes. Consequently, the nagging glitch in his processor only got worse, but by the time he gave it any thought… it was too late.

A massive boom echoed over his and Bumblebee's heads and he let out a grunt as rock debris began raining down on them. He had let Bumblebee's shoulder go before, but he took it up again as the mech stumbled (far more than he noticed ) after him, deeper and deeper down into the caves until they reached an area safe from cave-ins.

By the time they stopped again and both slumped against the wall of the dark, cool cavern, Prowl had lost his connection with the status comm-links feeding him info on the battle. In fact, all his communication links were now fuzzy if at all operational. Prowl swore softly again. Twice within a breem. Today was a bad day for him.

"…Prowl…" came an altogether too quiet voice from beside him. Prowl turned his chassis headlights on his small yellow companion… realising it was the first he'd spoken since ramming into him and throwing his carefully executed strategy into complete chaos…

When his lights hit the silver faceplate within the horned yellow helm, he immediately registered that something was very wrong (not that he shouldn't have gleaned that from Bumblebee's odd tone and behaviour already, but he was distracted and frustrated).

"It… they… were… going to…get you…" the small bot struggled to vocalise weakly. That's when Prowl noticed it… something large and ominously spiny and red was lodged in Bumblebee's neck where it met his chassis. Prowl reached forward and pulled it out immediately, but it was obvious the damage had been done. The little bot was now trembling uncontrollably, blue optics shinning with an obvious tinge of fear.

Prowl went from deeply irritated to desperately concerned in a spark-beat. He ran the deepest scan he was able and registered an extremely nasty line of virus code spreading slowly through Bumblebee's systems.

For the first time since his last battle-computer crash nearly a whole vorn ago, Prowl found his processor go blank… it was momentary, barely three nanokliks, before actions that needed taking began to crawl sluggishly through his CPU, but for Prowl, such a pause was un-heard of and downright alarming… if it was bad enough to give Prowl pause, then the seriousness of the situation didn't bear thinking about.

Prowl ramped as much of his power as he could spare into his communication units and hailed Ratchet's frequency.

He got a disconcerting wall of static in return. He knew it was Soundwave… he was still in the fight, and jamming long-range communications. Prowl would have to wait, keeping his sensors prodding at the comms firewall until he felt it shift, before he could contact the medic or any of the other autobots for that matter.

"What happened?" he asked Bumblebee, his urgency belying the anxiety for his companion he would not let creep into his voice.

"R-rumble… sneak attack…from behind…no time to do… anything but… take the hit." Bumblebee struggled to get out, optics flickering with the first tendrils of what promised to be pit-slagging agony creeping through him from whatever the Decepticon's weapon had fired into him. He was one of the autobots best spies, and yet he'd heard no whisper of the weapon Rumble had produced and aimed at Prowl as he hid behind the embankment, lining up his shot at the huge blue and white mech that was proving such a nuisance in their recent battles. He'd had no choice… he had lost his rifle in a scuffle with Ravage, and had just thrown the turbocat-cassetticon off when he'd noticed the ungodly large bazooka looking canon on Rumble's shoulder pointing _right at Prowl_ _'_ _s back._ Bumblebee hadn't thought. He hadn't needed to. He had acted before his CPU even caught up with the motion command his processor had made. And if he hadn't taken that hit, the second-in-command may have been off-lined right then… in a way, he felt lucky, like he had somehow dodged a bullet even as he leapt in front of one. It was just a bug-shot… not an explosive round or missile… he was lucky his spark chamber was still intact… although that still remained to be seen, given the full effects of the hit were yet to come.

"What's your status?" Prowl asked calmly and evenly, trying his best not to alarm the yellow mech despite the worrying readings his last scan had produced.

Bumblebee ran a sluggish systems check. Whatever virus code had been in that smart-shot Rumble had hit him with, it was having one hell of a time as it began fragging with his heating systems and energon relays. Bumblebee gave an uncomfortable groan and let his helm fall back against the cavern wall with a soft clang. "It's hitting my… sensory relays… I'll lose a lot of… feeling in my extremities… within a cycle, then… in another cycle… my heating systems …will drop to critically… low operational levels… and my energon lines… will freeze over…"

"You will go into stasis lock before that happens" Prowl said quietly, emotionlessly.

"Yea… won't come out… though…" Bumblebee squeezed out of his fritzingly difficult vocaliser.

Prowl's mouth thinned into a tense line. He stared into Bumblebee's still bright, fluttering blue optics. "I will not allow that." He said very softly. The sincere smile he received for this simple statement made him dim his optics a little in a comforting gesture. "I'm afraid your pain will steadily increase. As your systems are affected I will try to assist you where I can, but there is nothing I can do for the pain. This may turn into some of the longest few cycles of your life…" a hint of sad pity crept into his voice as he informed Bumblebee of what was going to transpire. Bumblebee, still trembling uncontrollably as his systems came under attack, merely gave a short nod of understanding, before his optics flickered off for a moment and his head shuddered back with a short shock of pain.

Prowl felt a sudden stab of deep concern for the small bot, but as Bumblebee's optics powered back on he gave Prowl the faintest of smiles. "I'll… get through… with you…around" he stated simply, a little static creeping into his vocals as he tried to suppress the short waves of pain that had suddenly begun to radiate from his left side panels.

Prowl shuttered his optics at Bumblebee a few times before he let the smallest, sad smile grace his faceplate. "I am monitoring the communications lines. Soundwave is jamming our long-range frequencies again, but the moment he is gone I should be able to contact Ratchet and he can instruct me as to how I can treat you… and we can be located and retrieved. Given the last readings of the battle's progress I took there is a 78% chance that it will be over within the next cycle."

Prowl knew his statistic calculations usually irritated most mechs rather than comforted them, but in this case it did seem to calm the other bot down. If there was one thing an autobot could rely on, it was Prowl's calculations. Bumblebee relaxed a little with the knowledge he would likely not have to suffer too hard before some help was at servo.

As the two sat in silent trepidation, Bumblebee shifted and shuddered and jerked with uncomfortable and increasing waves of pain. It was a disturbing sensation, to feel the viral coding seeping through his circuits, slowly eating away his base programming protocols and frying a minor conductor or two. He began to get drowsy and irritable when the virus reached his heating systems and clogged the relays. He cooled at a very slow rate, but the pain only increased as the virus spread and got stronger, feeding off the energy that was no longer being fed directly to his heating systems.

Prowl did his best to try and distract the little bot by predicting what the likely outcome of the battle above them would be. Bumblebee tried to focus on the calculations and their positive outcomes, but in the end all he could concentrate on was Prowl's cool, melodic vocals, and when he did he felt oddly soothed, despite the increasing and worrying frequency of violent spikes in his pain, making him jerk and buck randomly with a grimace of pain, and yet he remained silent.

Prowl had never before spent a great deal of time in Bumblebee's company. Prowl on whole didn't spend a great deal of time with any other bot, save maybe Jazz and Optimus Prime when discussing battle plans and calculations (or recharging with Jazz, which was usually the longest time they could steal together). But this was different. He was seeing a depth of strength and control in the small mech he had not before envisioned in him. He knew Bumblebee's torture was beginning… knew his little twitches and shifts hid larger surges of pain than he let on. He was unable to hide it in the violent surges of his flickering blue optics as he stared straight at the black expanse of the opposite wall. Prowl realised that Bumblebee was not really listening to anything he was saying. He did not at all blame him. Prowl, in fact, felt a pang of guilt. He felt frivolous, droning on about the unseen battle above them and its likely outcome, when the bot next to him had selflessly saved him from what was proving to be a horribly painful fate. Prowl let his voice trail to static mid sentence with a heavy aspiration of his cooling fans.

Bumblebee glanced over at him, a puzzled look on his tense face.

"I am sincerely sorry, Bumblebee." he said, a true and rare regret lacing his tone as he softly spoke the words, bowing his red chevron. Bumblebee merely gave him a quizzical stare. He raised his optics to Bumblebee's once more. "I have not even yet thanked you for the risk you took… for saving me from the Decepticon's lechery. Instead here I am talking endlessly about something that is really quite pointless."

"It's not… I like to… hear you talk…" Bumblebee replied, his vocaliser weak but tone sincere… and then he added swiftly "about the… battle, that is…"

Prowl wasn't sure if he imagined the cherry hue that came to Bumblebee's faceplate in the dark or not, but chose to ignore it as he attempted to stop his own faceplate from heating up at Bumblebees words.

"I think perhaps the Decepticons have become aggravated that my battle plans have thwarted their last few attempts to attack the Ark… this seems to have been more than just an exercise in attempted assassination. They wanted revenge. I am only sorry you have taken the brunt of an attack that seems intended for me. How are you feeling?" Prowl asked, level voice much calmer than he felt.

"That would… explain why… I heard nothing… about that weapon… while on missions. 'Cons concocted… it just for you." Bumblebee's optics dimmed as he ran another systems check, face flinching as another stab of pain rent his lower chassis circuit boards.

"My servos… are starting to… feel kinda sluggish… core temperature… is 12 degrees below … average… and my circuits… feel like… a turborat… has been chewing on them." he stated dryly with another violent wince, his optics off lining for a few seconds.

Prowl gave a nod and stared at the ground guiltily, knowing it should have been him in Bumblebee's position… he would gladly swap places if he could… why had Bumblebee jumped in front of the shot rather than tried to misdirect it? He knew Bumblebee didn't have a logic chip as highly calibrated as his own, but he also knew it was not like the accomplished little spy to do something that reckless unless he had no choice. Prowl was about to ask for the exact reasoning behind his move when he felt his underlying probe programme push past the static wall that had been cutting off his long-range communications. Prowl's door wings twitched as he diverted most of his power to his comms and hailed Ratchet again through the now cleared if not feint signal line.

**Prowl to Ratchet. Are you receiving my signal? Please respond with current co-ordinates and situation report.**

There were a few clicks of soft static before the line crackled and the medics familiar voice sent a wave of relief through Prowl, who hadn't realised his own nervous tension.

**This is Ratchet, hearing you not so loud but clear. Where the heck are you kid? The 'Cons just called a retreat, our position is 70 Kliks north-west of your signal, but by the interference on the line I'd say you're in a steel box, what's your status?**

Prowl turned to Bumblebee with a reassuring look, having put his communication line on open air. Bumblebee was looking up at him with very pained but quite relieved optics. Prowl noticed with a slight pang of concern that Bumblebee's shuddering had gotten worse.

**There was an incident during the battle, I was positioned to take down Soundwave, but I myself was targeted with a specialised weapon. Bumblebee is with me, he took the hit and we retreated into a cavern system I had placed myself near for cover. The 'Cons blew the pit out of the entrance and the resulting cave-ins forced us pretty deep down.**

Prowl explained calmly, but his tense edge told the medic there was more to it than them simply being trapped underground for a cycle.

**You said Bumblebee took a hit? What's his status? And tell me your location, we can head to your position while you explain.** Ratchet replied as he motioned over Hound, Braun and Inferno, who were nearest and had been listening to the open comm. that Ratchet had been broadcasting aloud. Cliffjumper had heard Prowl's incoming hail as well and had gone to inform Optimus Prime that his second-in-command was confirmed online and apparently alright.

**He's not good Ratchet. The shot he took was a viral-coded smart-barb. Downloaded something nasty into his systems. Currently it is limiting use of his servo extremities and vocaliser, it has compromised his heating systems and he is now 13 degrees below average normal core temperature. His cognitive functions are fine, but his pain is increasing and I have no means of relief for him. He is in need of urgent aid. Our position is 22 clicks east, 65 north of the tactical assault base co-ordinates established at 1109 cycles.**

Prowl's tone barely changed as he reported Bumblebee's condition to the medic, but ratchet had known him long enough to pick up on the slight nuances in his vocals as he spoke, even as feint as the transmission was given their distance and depth. Ratchet knew Prowl was worried. And if Prowl was worried, it meant something serious. Ratchet gave the other three mechs who had been listening a meaningful look before he transformed and started in the direction of the co-ordinates Prowl had given, the other three following suit.

Ratchet texted a short report on what they were doing to Prime before closing his open comm. link with Prowl down to a private line.

**OK kid, listen carefully. That virus code they've hit Bumblebee with is a nasty one. We aren't going to make it to your position before his Energon lines freeze and he goes into a likely irreversible stasis-lock…**

Prowl's optics shot to Bumblebees with a terse and anxious look as Ratchet, still being broadcast out-loud by Prowl, confirmed Prowl's worst fears. Bumblebee too seemed rather alarmed and a lot more afraid given the news. Prowl wished badly that he had privatised the line before Ratchet had blurted out his dire calculations. But Ratchet, oblivious to Prowl's annoyance that he had just as good as told Bumblebee he was dead, continued on, voice echoing off the black tunnel walls.

… **However, you may be able to stave that off. Do you have any energon rations on you?**

Prowl's optics shuttered for a moment as he tried to recall what he had and hadn't deemed necessary to subspace before the battle.

**Yes, I have a small ration I locked in re-enforced sub-space in case I needed to retreat to these caves and was sealed in. The chance was only** **23.7%, but it is only a half ration and only useful for one mech.**

**That's fine** Ratchet replied, sounding a little more positive, **He's going to need a small refuel, and you should last alright until we get you out of there anyway. Don't give it to him yet, you've got something else to do before he'll need it.**

Ratchet paused, seemingly to choose his next words carefully, as though unsure exactly how to phrase his instructions. Prowl waited patiently, still not closing the broadcast of the line as Bumblebee watched him hopefully, still twitching in pain.

**His systems will start to cool more rapidly soon. You're going to need to prevent them from dropping below 75% under average. You will also need to send a current-surge through his systems to stave off the spread of the code, or it'll eat through his processor's firewalls and then we'll have some serious problems before he even hits stasis-lock.**

A small frown graced the edges of Prowl's mouth as he ran all this information through his logic chip.

**I don't have the necessary means to send a proper discharge surge through his systems Ratchet, I have no such equipment with me that I can appropriate for the use, my rifle was lost in the cave-in, so I cannot re-calibrate it to use…**

The medic cut across him, his voice now flustered, which confused Prowl into silence as the medic continued.

**You don't need any equipment Prowl. This virus has been seen and treated in the field before. There's one means of creating a power surge without the use of tools or re-calibrations of field tech. This has been done before and saved many a bot until the medics could reach them. Now don't argue with me Prowl, if you want Bumblebee to stay online you have to take my orders as CMO without question. I'm pulling field protocol necessarily here, understood?**

Prowl sat in stunned silence for a moment as he realised Ratchet was making him swear to follow orders no matter what they were. Prowl suddenly felt a chill of nervousness seep through his circuits. What procedure without equipment or tools would be so abhorrent that Ratchet thought it necessary to enforce his authority override as chief medical officer?

**I will do whatever is necessary to keep Bumblebee online.** He replied with a sidelong glance at the small yellow bot, who smiled weekly and let out a small hiss of static as he arched his back at a fresh wave of pain from slow circuit damage.

**Good. Prowl, I need you to overload Bumblebee.**

Absolute, stunned, static silence was the response to Ratchet's command.

It was at least ten astroseconds before Prowl replied.

**Sorry Ratchet… what?**

If the situation were not so serious, ratchet would have been rolling around on his aft laughing hysterically at the second-in-command's very out of character response. As it was, he ventilated a sigh which went through to Prowl as a burst of static before he confirmed the poor tactician's worst fears.

**I need you to get Bumblebee to overload. It's the best way to keep his temperature up and fritz the virus coding to stave off it's effects until we can get there. And work it up slowly, the longer you can keep his temperature up, the better.**

More stunned silence met Ratchet's instructions. Much as he tried, he couldn't help the small amused stuttering of his engine as he trundled on over the rubble of the battlefield towards their buried position.

**Primus… You're serious… aren't you… Ratchet?**

The voice that eventually responded was soft and weak and was obviously having trouble given the amount of static creeping into it.

**I'm dead serious Bumblebee. But don't worry. I don't think Prowl is the kiss and tell type…**

Ratchet could almost feel the Datsun's death-glare. He was actually glad Prowl had had him on speaker, it probably made the situation easier with Bumblebee hearing his prescribed treatment outright rather than Prowl having to convey it to the poor infected bot.

**When is the best time to do this, exactly?** Prowl's curt and very deliberately controlled voice came through to him after another short pause.

**Well, if his core temperature drops another three degrees within the next breem, there's no reason not to start revving him up then. We'll be at least another cycle just getting to you, and probably another half a cycle to dig you out. Hound's with me, so I'm sure he, Inferno and Braun will make short work of clearing a path down to you. In the meantime, you can acquaint yourself a little better with minibot structures and their sensory array layout.**

**Ratchet, you realise I will not have to pull rank at all if this gets out amoung the rest of the Ark residents? As chief tactician I have an inordinate amount of strategies at my disposal to exact a fitting revenge.** Prowl's ice cold vocals broke Ratchet's professional façade and his engine sputtered with uncontained laughter that somewhat alarmed the other three mechs travelling with him.

**Oh don't get your diodes in a bunch Prowl, you should know full well about medic-patient confidentiality protocols, and unlike some of the more unscrupulous members of the Autobot force, I am not one to carelessly bandy about information as sensitive as this, no matter how… morale lifting some bots might find such information. Anyway, as a medic I am of the opinion that this treatment may benefit you as well, it's about time you got a good 'face.**

Prowl baulked openly at the dark cave wall before him. Bumblebee was torn between great amusement, horrified embarrassment and the pain still raking through his chassis. At any other time seeing that expression on the normally straight-faced 2IC would have Bumblebee in fits of laughter, but given the implications this had for him, his burning red faceplate showed just how he felt about Ratchet's prescribed treatment.

His faceplate was not red because he felt exceptionally awkward about it being Prowl that had to administer the 'treatment', but because a part of him had actually felt a bit _excited_ at the prospect of the Datsun's nimble white fingers stroking over his sensors…

Bumblebee was shaken from his guilty musings by a particularly violent surge of pain that caused him to throw back his helm and emit an agonised crackle of static.

Prowl turned his optics to the yellow beetle with both great concern and shameful anticipation.

**This had better be the only way to help Bumblebee Ratchet, because so help me if this is a joke it is in the poorest of tastes.** Prowl said quietly to Ratchet over his finally privatised line.

**Trust me Prowl, I don't joke about stuff like this. And I wasn't joking about you either. You haven't had any decent stress relief in far too long, and what's more, I need you to do as much as you possibly can. Only a hard overload will do the most damage possible to that viral code. I don't care if you like the implications or not, you've got to do a hardline interface for this to work properly. And I know you aren't worried about possible infection, and it won't matter anyway because we'll be able to get to you in plenty of time to treat you safely. I'm guessing Bumblebee's condition just worsened if that burst of static I heard was anything to go by. When I close this line I'm going to set a block on your frequency that only I can go through for emergency contact, other than that you should remain uninterrupted, and I want you to get to it. Understood?**

Prowl focused on Bumblebee with almost fearful optics as the small mech began to writhe weakly with the increase in his pain.

**Understood.**

There was a click and the line disconnected, a small blue light in his H.U.D telling him his incoming frequency had been blocked with a temporary password override firewall.

Prowl let out a long ventilated sigh and moved closer to Bumblebee's side. The small yellow mech had slumped further down the rocky wall, shaking uncontrollably, curled up slightly around his chassis, faceplate screwed up in obvious agony. A quick scan told Prowl his companion's core temperature had dropped an alarming 5 more degrees. Prowl placed his servo on Bumblebee's quaking shoulder and the minibot flickered his optics online to look up apologetically at Prowl.

"s-sorry… this… is a …t-total… mood killer… I bet" he ground out weakly with an apologetic smile.

Prowl felt his spark throb painfully at the mech's words. Even as he was consumed with a pain meant for someone else, facing an exceptionally awkward situation, he managed to lighten the mood with a few well phrased, light-hearted words.

Prowl's faceplate heated beyond his control as he realised the overwhelming rush of affection he felt for the small yellow bot. The digits resting on Bumblebee's shoulder twitched along with his wings. Even through his haze of pain, Bumblebee noticed the twitches of the other mech and read his expression and cherry red faceplate like an open book as Prowl stared at Bumblebee's pedes.

"It's o-ok… Prowl… I really… don't m-mind… I'm not… the type to… k-kiss and tell… either."

Prowl's optics snapped back to his with a slightly shocked if not grateful look. Bumblebee smiled weakly again as he tried to hide another stab of pain that rent his upper chassis.

"If…it makes you… _nnnnngh…_ feel better… I could do… with som-…something to… distract me… from the… pain"

Bumblebee hadn't meant the statement to sound pleading… but he didn't have much control over his vocaliser as yet more surges caused him to screw up his faceplate and offline his optics.

After a moment, Bumblebee gasped. Amoung the signals of pain had come a new sensation. It started out on his right side as a soft, warming tingle… but as it reached the wires just on the inside of a seam in his side armour, it increased into an intense stab of pleasure that cut through his agony and made him shudder, arching at the soft touches setting off the sensory network that was connected with the wires being stimulated. Bumblebee didn't dare online his optics. He merely pressed into the pleasurable sensations as they moved slowly along the gap in his side plating, gently pinging more wires and sending warming signals that fought with the pain shocks. This conflict of sensory information made his base programming fight the virus shutting off power to his heating systems, and sluggishly his system began to heat in response to the pleasure sensations. He didn't even register the soft whimper that escaped him.

Prowl felt Bumblebee relax a little under his touches, even as he squirmed and pressed himself into Prowl's servo. Prowl's wings twitched as Bumblebee made a soft whimper against his conflicting sensory signals. Prowl's optics softened. He knew it would likely start out rather uncomfortably for the minibot. Pleasure and pain signals clashing and jarring to a processor under systems stress like he was enduring. Prowl had moved his fingers up the seam in Bumblebee's side until he was level with the spark chamber. He then began to move his digits back down again, slowly, gently stroking the bunches of wires he felt under the tips of his fingers. He hit what felt like a sensory node when he reached Bumblebee's waist and something suddenly clamped around the wrist of the hand in Bumblebee's side. Prowl flickered his optics in a blink. Bumblebee had his servo gripped weakly around Prowl's wrist as his fingers lingered over the sensory node. Bumblebee's arm was trembling and he was respirating rather rapidly. But then Bumblebee's hand weakly pushed Prowl's a little harder into his own side. Prowl got the message with a flick of his door wings. _Don't stop._

Bumblebee's servo dropped from his wrist as he pressed harder against the sensory node. The smaller bot writhed weakly and emitted a quiet, broken hum. The servo that had released Prowl reached out blindly until it contacted the tactician's upper arm near his shoulder joint. Bumblebee curled his twitching digits over it and weakly kneaded them into the plating. Prowl couldn't help the tiniest smile creep onto his faceplate. It had been rather a long time since he initiated any action like this with another… he didn't think it would come to him so easily. He lifted his other servo and ran it over the hood of Bumblebee's chassis. This seemed to soothe his pain again as his violent shaking dulled a little more. But then Prowl made him buck weakly and gasp by brushing his fingertips over the sensory node in his side again.

Prowl, doing another quick scan, realised Ratchet had been quite right… the sensory stimulation was kicking Bumblebee's heating components back into action, and his core temp had risen two degrees.

Prowl suddenly found himself frustrated… he had to draw this out as long as possible, but with a steadily heating faceplate he realised he didn't want to. He was too _impatient._ Yet for Bumblebee's sake he had no choice. And yet… as he watched the minibot's faceplate twitch with his touches and felt his digits paw his arm so needily… he realised that all traces of embarrassment had left him.

Could he possibly… have wanted this more than he would even admit to himself? Was it just that it had been too long since he had done this, or was it specifically who he was doing this to that was suddenly causing his engine to purr needily?

Regardless, as Prowl let the servo on Bumblebee's chest plate wander aimlessly over the seams and down the glass sides of his hood, Bumblebee arched and whimpered.

Bumblebee couldn't tell anymore when he twitched whether it was from pleasure or pain. For some reason the two were mingling and ended up confused in his buzzing processor. He gasped as the virus tried to assert itself painfully over his re-booting heating system, but then he whimpered as the pain sensitised his chest plate and Prowl's servo sent a shiver of ecstasy through his glass windows and the sensors connected to them. He wanted so badly for Prowl to find his hotspots. There was no room in his CPU to feel embarrassed about the impulsive desire. Prowl had already moved on from the sensor node in his side and seemed to be looking for another.

Prowl realised as he slid the digits of the hand he'd had in Bumblebee's side further down the hip, that Bumblebee's grip on his arm would tighten when he brushed over certain plates.

Prowl did not stop to investigate the areas Bumblebee seemed to react most to, but continued to brush his fingertips down the side of the minibot's leg. His other servo continued to trace random patterns on the glass of Bumblebee's chassis.

Another violent stab of pain was followed by the consistent buzz of tantalising touches… he was aware he whined aloud again as Prowl brushed over a hyper-sensitive panel at the top of his leg, but his squeeze on the tacticians arm was seemingly ignored.

"F-fragging… tease… _nnnnngh_ " Bumblebee managed to gasp through more mixed signals.

"Medic's orders. You heard Ratchet. The longer you stay warm, the better." Prowl responded coolly, but Bumblebee did not fail to notice the purr in his vocals. Much as he couldn't process any embarrassment, the implications of Prowl's tone was also lost on him. If he had any inkling that the tactician was reciprocating his earlier unspoken feelings of excited anticipation, he did not himself recognise it. However, he was not a patient little bot, as much as he knew Prowl was quite right… but he was not the kind to take and not _give._

Prowl gasped as the hand that had been clamping at his arm sending pleasant tingles through him, suddenly traced shakily up to his shoulder and then down his side. Bumblebee onlined his optics at last, head tilted to see what he was doing. Finding a seam under the Datsun's bumper, he slipped his weakly shaking little digits in and played with the wires under Prowl's chest plate.

Bumblebee let a sly smile play on his faceplate as he felt the tactician shudder with pleasure under his touch and the white servos faltered on the yellow and black plating beneath them.

"Ah… B-Bumblebee… that isn't… necessary…" Prowl whispered, but the obvious ecstasy in his voice as his optics shuttered only made the minibot's smile widen.

"C-come on… I can't… leave you… out. I…took y-your… bullet… you owe me." Bumblebee panted out playfully.

Bumblebee was merciless. His fingers twitched against Prowl's wires and circuits as alternate stabs of pain or pleasure washed through the small bot's frame. Bumblebee found one of Prowl's own sensory nodes and stroked it hard with trembling digits. Prowl ventilated hard, arching over the other bot, the hand on Bumblebee's chassis leaving to rest next to the minibot's head, supporting Prowl as he arched at the sensations, door wings shuddering and flying back.

Bumblebee let out a true moan as Prowl's other hand stopped stroking and slipped into the joint between his leg and pelvis.

Bumblebee's leg twitched and he squirmed as the white fingers nimbly teased the hyper sensitive connective wires running through the joint.

The only way Bumblebee now knew he was still in pain under all the pleasure sensations was the tender, over-sensitiveness in his hotspots. The pain was putting his sensory array on edge, and pain signals only heightened the pleasure ones until they became confused in Bumblebee's processor.

The small yellow bot had interfaced before… but normally he was not one for much foreplay. And what was more, it had been quite a while… the last bot he'd gotten with had been when he was new to the ark and had been to a new recruits welcoming party. He wasn't much of a drinker, but he couldn't refuse the fine high-grade offered out of politeness and wanting to be liked. As it was, he and his new roommate ( a certain red minibot of similar build to him) had helped each other, both quite overcharged, to their quarters. They had then (giggling madly) fallen over one another and gotten a little frisky with their elation at both having integrated into the prestigious Ark team.

Neither had exactly regretted their rather personal getting-to-know-each-other, but nor had they felt the need to repeat it. What was more, as the other members of the Ark got to know him better, none of them seemed to want a relationship of that sort with him. They all just saw him as too _innocent,_ and truthfully, Bumblebee was too shy and comfortable with his friends to correct them.

As it was, Bumblebee was impatient with most things that weren't job related operations. And consequently the whole extended foreplay thing was a completely new experience… he wondered for a moment what was more torturous… the virus, or Prowl's exquisitely drawn out ministrations.

He decided with a shudder of pleasure that it was in fact something between the two as another soft, shuddering moan was drawn out of him.

Prowl was finding it harder and harder to hold back, with Bumblebee's touches, and now the sounds he was making, both driving his processor mad with lust. It had been rather a long time since any bot had been able to do this to him.

Back when Jazz had first made advances, Prowl had been driven to feelings much like this. Not at first. It had taken quite a lot of work on Jazz's part to get to him. But he had managed it. In the end, Jazz had somehow made Prowl the pursuer, even though Prowl knew full well Jazz had been interested in him long before he had realised he felt anything for Jazz.

They were still very much involved… but the past few months had seen both high-ranking mechs workloads increase threefold, and neither had had much time or energy to do much more than spare a few words together during off-time.

The idea of what Jazz would say if he knew what was going on right now made Prowl's spark flutter hotly. Jazz would be so disappointed if he knew he was missing this… seeing Prowl get worked up by a minibot, and the saboteur's best spy no less. Oh yes, Prowl thought, gasping as Bumblebee's nimble little digits found a sweet-spot above his spark chamber, Jazz would be exceptionally disappointed if Prowl decided to tell him about what he'd missed out on later. Just thinking of Jazz, Prowl found that he was shifting his weight back to his knees, freeing the hand near Bumblebee's head, which moved to the minibot's helm. He had just remembered something that he was curious to test…

Prowl was well acquainted with his Porsche lover's sweet spots… but did they translate over to other frames such as Bumblebee's? Prowl ran a thumb along one of the horns on the yellow helm.

Bumblebee let out the loudest moan yet and off-lined his optics. Prowl smirked. It seemed horns on any bot where a hotspot.

Prowl didn't need to run another systems scan to tell him Bumblebee was sufficiently heated by now. He was beginning to feel it beneath his fingers. He himself was running a little hotter than usual.

Prowl had not been on the top of Bumblebee's 'who I wouldn't mind 'facing' list, but as soon as those white nimble digits had closed around his horn he'd made a mental note to put him in the top 5. Bumblebee couldn't hold back his moans and gasps if he tried. His processor buzzed with relish at the sensory onslaught and suddenly refused to acknowledge any of the pain signals the virus had been spreading through his body. Freed temporarily from pain, Bumblebee squirmed and his other servo reached up to join his first on Prowl's chassis, brushing over the Datsun's headlights, tracing his bumper and sliding quiveringly down his sides, tugging needily at Prowl's armour as he mewled with delight.

Prowl could tell immediately that stimulating Bumblebee's horns was working exceptionally effectively against the viral codes. He twirled his fingers around one horn and then the other, his caresses responding to the trembling touches Bumblebee made against his sides as they feverishly sought seams to grasp at.

As Bumblebee mastered himself through the sensations to think straight, he realised this sneaky means of taking all control away from him was working… but Bumblebee wasn't having any of it.

"mmmnh…two can… play a-at… that game!" he gasped hoarsely through his still fritzing vocaliser.

Optics onlined again, he glanced up at Prowl, who was still leaning over him, and noticed with distant interest that the tacticians optics were deep blue with a lust Bumblebee had never seen in them before… despite the absurdness of the situation already Bumblebee found his faceplate flushed with colour again. However, his bright blue optics shone with an impish glint that Prowl did not fail to notice. One of the black servos on Prowl's side was gone. It flashed before his face… but before Prowl could process what Bumblebee's actions meant, the small black digits closed around the red chevron on his helm and began to stroke and fondle it.

It was Prowl's turn to moan before he could stop himself. Bumblebee felt a warm tingle run down his back at the sound. He had _never_ imagined a sound so beautiful coming from the normally straight-faced, emotionless seeming 2IC. He knew he wasn't actually emotionless… but seeing his face melt into an expression of bliss under his black digits gave Bumblebee an all too pleasurable feeling that he'd never even thought possible in connection with this mech.

As Bumblebee continued to apply greater pressure to his strokes on the red helm appendage, Prowl's motor functions slipped from his control. He slowly slid down until he half lay over the small yellow bot (who had by now pretty much writhed his way down onto the tunnel floor). His optics flickered on and off erratically, but what he glimpsed of the mini-bots features told him Bumblebee was thoroughly enjoying bringing Prowl down to his level.

"This had… better be getting you… warmed up… don't want ratchet- Aah!…on my _nnnnnn_ … case because you froze up while… _ngggggggh_ … revving ME up"

"trust me… Prowl, no bot… could stay cool… watching you… like this" Bumblebee coughed out a laugh before whimpering as Prowl resumed stroking his horns and the inside of his leg joint at the same time.

Neither Prowl nor Bumblebee felt it necessary to question the motivations of their newfound confidence while touching one another. Prowl's logic circuits accepted that given Bumblebee's personality, it would be foolish to assume he would not feel the need to reciprocate this kind of treatment, intimate though it was. And Bumblebee was too caught up in the sensations and too clouded by the buzzing of the fighting viral code to process the reality of how out of character Prowl was towards him. Normally all these things would give the two mechs pause for some very awkward thought, but within the moment it all seemed so… unimportant. Irrelevant.

Prowl did a quick chronometer check. It had been half a cycle since Ratchet had cut communications. He hadn't realised the time had gone so quickly. He figured it was safe to take his ministrations to the next level. But before he could even collect his thoughts properly against the black fingers still caressing his chevron and fuzzing his processor, Bumblebee's other servo had slid around his back and now reached his door wing joints.

Prowl's head flew back with a gasp and a high pitched moan as the tiny digits dug into the armour creases where his door wings connected to his frame. Bumblebee gave a triumphant smirk. Oh yes… he new there had to be another spot better than the chevron… and hadn't he once seen Sunstreaker teasing Bluestreak's door wings when he thought no-one was watching?

Prowl melted into the touch, letting the servo at Bumblebee's hip travel into the seam on the inside of the minibot's thigh. His other hand stroked the little yellow horns harder, making Bumblebee shudder with more mewls of delight and dig his fingers deeper into the door wing hinges.

Prowl's cooling fans finally kicked in as his temperature exceeded ordinary operational levels. Bumblebee's didn't kick in, but they weren't supposed to, because he was only at normal temperature now, and was feeling a slight lag in energy given the effort his body was going to fighting against the virus code. He ignored his slightly sluggish hydraulics as Prowl became lost in the waves of pleasure Bumblebee was sending through him, and feeling the need to kick it up a notch, Prowl dove his mouth into Bumblebee's exposed neck.

Bumblebee whimpered and gasped as Prowl mouthed and nipped his neck cables, sliding his glossa slowly up the area where the barb-shot had penetrated with a USB spike and downloaded the virus. The spot was tender and sparked with a small, severed and arcing wire. Prowl almost enjoyed the sting of the electricity that zapped him from the tiny live wire as he ran his glossa over it.

Bumblebee let out a hiss of static and then a weak moan as Prowl pressed a kiss to the tiny wound. It was not a very painful wound, but the sensors around it were highly receptive from the damage, and every Brush of Prowl's metallic lips across the area sent tingling waves of ecstasy down Bumblebee's spine.

Because Prowl had come closer to dip his faceplate to Bumblebee's neck, Bumblebee was able to reach both his hands around the tactician's sides and stroke the quivering door wings.

Prowl had them pressed as far forward as possible for easy access, and Bumblebee ran his flat palms over the surface of the highly sensitive appendages. He felt Prowl's engine rumble with heated pleasure against his own chassis as he stroked his finger along the edges of the doors.

Prowl could feel Bumblebee's engine working much harder than it should have, knowing the virus was still affecting his system relays. He hesitated a moment with his movements, anxious that perhaps Ratchet was wrong about the type of Virus. What if he was doing Bumblebee more harm than good? What if he overworked him and he stalled? Prowl shuddered at the thought. Beneath him Bumblebee gave a weak whine, clearly wondering why Prowl had stopped, his little engine giving off a needy rev. Prowl pressed the fingers on the inside of Bumblebee's thigh a little harder into the crease in his plating. Well, even if it was a different virus (and really, running it through his logic chip he concluded that Ratchet was very rarely wrong with his diagnosis and felt almost ashamed that he was doubting the CMO's judgement when he had already come this far ), at least even if this wasn't helping… it may well be one of the best ways to offline. Failing the option of going bravely on the battlefield fighting all the way, Prowl thought that getting a good interface before going was still preferable to lying in agony waiting to fall into irreversible stasis lock, and so he continued to do all he could for Bumblebee… who it seemed was determined to do all he could for Prowl as well. Despite the fact he had no obligation to do so given his weaker, compromised state.

The small delicate servos on Prowl's door wings managed to set off his sensory array like no other mech had done before. Prowl had not had many interface partners, but he had never had experience with a mini-bot. He had to admit, he couldn't recall a mech who had managed to find so many hotspots on him in such a short time.

Prowl panted into Bumblebee's neck as the minibot ran a hand over the small glass-covered lights that sat between his wing joints, the other hand sliding up the back of his neck, pulling him… drawing him upwards.

All of a sudden, Prowl felt cool lips pressing against his own. He did not resist. This was beyond what was necessary… but both mechs had realised by now that something deeper than necessity was now driving their actions. They hadn't needed to say anything. They could discuss the ins and outs of their newly discovered feelings later. For the moment, they spoke with touches, strokes and soft meaningless sounds. Bumblebee's glossa teased him, flitting across his lips playfully. Prowl responded by sliding his own glossa into Bumblebee's mouth to caress his dental plating. Bumblebee let him in gladly, only half conscious of his legs parting and hitching up as Prowl's hand continued to knead the plating of his inner thighs, dipping into the seams and twiddling with the wires within, causing the metal plating at the front of Bumblebee's crotch to heat up dramatically.

Prowl deepened the kiss with a fervour that surprised Bumblebee, but a nanoklik later he realised what the Datsun was up to. Bumblebee let out a muffled, quivering mewl as the nimble white fingers still pressed into the seems of his inner thighs suddenly started moving up towards his crotch, Bumblebee shuddered violently with pleasure and anticipation, his engine whining from the excitement. Prowl pressed his lips hard to Bumblebee's as he slid his digits up the over-heated yellow codpiece, drawing another delicious mewl from the beetle as Bumblebee's lips reciprocated feverishly and his hands flew back to the hinges of Prowl's door wings. The Datsun bucked against Bumblebee's chassis, scraping white and black streaks on him, but his hands remained steady and determined.

Their kiss broke apart as Prowl let out a gasp and short moan before setting two fingers on the seams either side of the plate that covered Bumblebee's interfacing hardware. He dragged the fingers hard along the seams and the mini-bot whimpered and whined, digging his digits hard into the hinge joints on Prowl's back so that they moaned together in sympathetic frequencies.

Finally, Prowl pressed a particular spot on the armour plating and slid back the interface circuit cover, Bumblebee letting out a throaty moan as he did so.

Prowl took a moment to play a finger teasingly around Bumblebee's equipment, not quite touching the tip of his cord or the rim of his port. He traced a figure eight over the exposed circuitry and wires until Bumblebee made him whimper as he mercilessly attacked his door hinges and added his mouth to his onslaught by copying Prowls kissing and nipping technique on Prowl's own exposed neck.

Prowl hummed with a smug grin as he slowly placed a digit (now well lubricated by Bumblebee's leaking port) and then dove it into the bunched wires below Bumblebee's interface cord.

Bumblebee let out a sensational moan as Prowl buried his finger in his Port, stroking all the hyper sensitive wires slowly and carefully. The minibot now gave the Datsun some yellow streaks on his chassis as he writhed in ecstasy beneath him.

Prowl knew Bumblebee was not a virgin, but the tight little port could have fooled him if he hadn't seen the blackmail footage Red Alert had of two rather overcharged, under-'faced minibot roommates.

"Bumblebee… may I ask you something personal?" Prowl whispered into the yellow audio somewhere under his chin. His voice sounded like nothing more unusual was happening between them than a chat in the rec. room. Bumblebee, for some reason, found himself completely turned on by this nonchalance.

And Prowl's humour was not lost on him either. With a short laugh and a high pitched moan, he replied, "Ask away."

"When was the last time you interfaced with anyone?"

The question was emphasised with a few quicker pumps from Prowl's finger, making Bumblebee hum in pleasure so that he nearly missed Prowl's quietly spoken question somewhere just above his helm.

"ah…nnnnn… ages… too long…" he panted. "Not quite… as lucky as… you. You and Jazz… 'faced lately?"

But for his gasping, mewling pauses, Bumblebee could almost be asking so innocently as though they were having an ordinary, casual conversation over refuel. Prowl was not taken aback by the question. For some reason he found his answer coming as easily as if Bumblebee had been his trusted personal confidante for vorns.

"Unfortunately not. We've both been rather busy of late. What do you mean by lucky?… Jazz is the lucky one, I was nearly too blind to realise his odd behaviour was flirting, I was going to transfer off the ark before I realised he wasn't trying to drive me away." Prowl explained. Prowl had never voiced his opinions on his relationship with Jazz in such a way with any other mech before, but something about Bumblebee made him open up and talk with a frankness he did not usually employ in such personal matters.

Bumblebee slid his hands down Prowl's back as he got used to the overwhelming signals and sensations radiating from his lubricant slicked port and could think straight again.

"Hey… someone saw you… as a viable… partner. I don't… nnnnn get that… kind of attention… I'm everyone's- _mmmmmmmmmm_ … friend, but no ones… lover. If I… didn't need to… overload to survive… you'd never have… seen me that… way either."

Prowl felt a stab of guilt he did not expect. Bumblebee was right. And he'd never even thought on it… how very frustrating it would be, to be desirous yet know you were not desired in the same way by any other mech.

"So… Cliffjumper never requested a repeat performance? I think perhaps you were either not giving him what you are giving me, or he has a serious glitch in his processor." Prowl murmured in Bumblebee's audio smoothly with a sly smile.

"nnh!…h-how do-"

"I am one of the only mechs on the Ark that Red Alert enjoys sharing his blackmail material with." Prowl said simply before deciding Bumblebee's port was now ready for another finger to join the first.

The little yellow mech cried out in earnest as he was stretched gently. But he couldn't let this bliss go unpunished. He left one hand on the small of Prowl's back, keeping him close, while the other trailed down the black hip, dipping into a seam along the way, and stroking wires all the way down to Prowl's own very heated Codpiece.

Bumblebee's impatience got the better of him. He did not bother teasing the way Prowl had (and really, he thought, he didn't have to, because Prowl was already warm enough for both of them) but simply fumbled for the right spot on the circuit cover, and pressing it, slid the metal plate out of the way.

Bumblebee's little black digits went straight for Prowl's interface cable. Prowl bucked with an exclamation of bliss as Bumblebee fingered the end of his cord. Bumblebee let out a similar noise as Prowl's fingers pumped into his well lubricated port a little faster.

Both mechs arched into one another and the deeply intimate touches, moans of ecstasy and what seemed like relief shuddering out of them with their ventilations. Prowl felt his cord begin to extend from it's recessed position as energy and electricity diverted to his interfacing units. As it extended, Bumblebee coaxed it out to its full length with soft strokes along the hyper-sensitive sheathing of the cables. Once it was fully extended however, it was pulled away as Prowl pushed himself down the Minibot's chassis, as though to retreat. His fingers withdrew from Bumblebee's hot, leaking port and the minibot whined in protest. Had he done something wrong? Was Prowl having second thoughts? Perhaps this had all been enough to stave the virus off long enough for Ratchet to reach them? But Prowl would never defy the CMO's orders, and Bumblebee had sworn there was something happening here, something more than-

Bumblebee's franticly fretting processor stalled as cool, pliable metal touched the opening of his port and he cried out in surprised delight as something smooth and hot entered him. Bumblebee's engine stuttered and revved even higher as Prowl's glossa dove into him, the white fingers once again at his inner thighs and digging into the wires between black armour plates. Bumblebee felt the Datsun laugh into him in a way he may have expected Bluestreak to… though perhaps not in the same position that Prowl was in… the sound rippled through his already very sensitive interface circuits. Bumblebee could feel a tingle of the imminent sensations overload would bring. "hhnnn… what's so… funny… _officer_?" Bumblebee gasped as his vocaliser hitched against both the virus damage and his near inebriation from the pleasure sensations swamping his processor and wildly fluttering spark.

"I just enjoy your reactions… for a moment… you thought I was going to stop… and I don't think… I've ever seen you… _so_ disappointed."

Prowl hummed his answers in that cool, melodic tone that was starting to send tingles up Bumblebee's spine… and as he murmured them against Bumblebee's tight port he emphasised his pauses with laps at the bunched cables, making Bumblebee spasm at the intense mix of pleasurable stimuli.

Bumblebee let a small pout grace his features (though it was very hard to keep that face given Prowl's ministrations). "I'm still-ahh! …Disappointed… I was- unh- h-having… fun with your ha-aah-ardware!"

Bumblebee gasped, shuddered and moaned, reaching down to grasp the red chevron beneath his chassis, stroking both sides firmly, relishing the moan Prowl released into him, shuddering as the tacticians glossa lapped the hot wires on the inside of his port.

Bumblebee looked down at the black and white mech between his legs, continuing to run his thumbs hard along Prowl's chevron, making him shudder and drive his glossa deeper. Bumblebee noticed that only one of Prowl's servos was digging into his thigh plates… the other had been removed (not that he'd noticed, as Prowl's glossa was very distracting) to somewhere beneath Prowl's chassis. Bumblebee realised, as he watched Prowl's awkward, stiff shoulders and shuddering door-wings, that he was self stimulating.

For some reason, the sight of the 2IC engaging in such out of character actions aroused Bumblebee to the point where he let out a delighted moan and threw his helm back, bucking against the even more overwhelming sensations he felt as his sensory array threshold opened up a little more.

Bumblebee couldn't process how wonderfully absurd the situation was… but even through the haze of a slow, hot, stimulation charge, he couldn't help but feel privileged to have witnessed Prowl acting the way he was. He felt a newfound warmth flood through him at the thought of the reserved, cool headed, black and white Datsun doing something so out-of-character quite unashamedly in his presence.

"Pro-owl…" Bumblebee rasped out needily, vocaliser glitching, digits curling tightly around the red chevron still in his grasp.

At the strange tone of Bumblebee's voice uttering his name, Prowl finally surfaced from where he had been teasing the end of Bumblebee's interface cord with his glossa. Bumblebee realised he had spoken out-loud when he felt Prowl stop and look up at him quizzically. He onlined his optics again and let out a little static-hitched giggle as he saw the tactician wiping lubricant off his faceplate with a completely innocent expression. He pulled weakly at Prowl's helm and Prowl obligingly slid back up Bumblebee's chassis, except this time he was directly above the minibot. He let Bumblebee take his mouth in another passionate kiss, the slight, sweet taste of Bumblebee's lubricant still coating his glossa.

One of Bumblebee's servos trailed down the side of his helm where the other still stroked his chevron sensuously. It trailed over his audio, down his neck, and eventually embedded itself in his door-wing hinges again. Prowl felt a quiver of electricity through his interfacing hardware, excitement he rarely felt lighting up his processor and spark.

Bumblebee could feel Prowl's cord against the inside of his thigh, but he made no move to touch it again… he was relinquishing control to Prowl… it felt right, it felt so slagging _good_ to feel the soft pressure of Prowl on him, ready to finish what had started out as reluctantly necessary in a more than willing fashion. Digging his fingers into the hinges and the transformation cogs they were attached to, Bumblebee broke the kiss (in which he'd tasted himself) with the gasping Datsun, and buried his faceplate into Prowl's neck.

Prowl gasped and panted, cooling fans and vents cycling overtime as he felt the sensory relay charge building dangerously high with Bumblebee's ministrations deep in his wing joints where no other mech had been able to reach before. He was getting desperate now, unsure of how much longer he could hold back.

"P-prowl… n-now, please… take me now…" Bumblebee's urgent and desperate whisper sent a thrilling tingle through his right audio receiver. It was all the prompting he needed.

Prowl took his own cord in a slightly shaking servo and gently guided it towards Bumblebee's dripping port. He found the interface opening and gently inserted the end of his cable, his connecter spike magnetising slightly to guide the cable in the right direction through the tightly bunched wires. The wires tautened and Bumblebee whimpered softly as he felt himself close a little around Prowl's plug. It had been quite a while since he'd felt another inside him… and he had forgotten how big average sized mechs were compared to him. Prowl had done a good job preparing his port, but it still felt tight around the other's cable… however, it was more thrilling than painful.

Prowl bit his bottom lip and let out a humming moan as he pressed his cord into the tight but slick port.

He shuddered in ecstasy as Bumblebee's fingers tightened on his chevron and in his door-hinges. He drew back again a little, ramped up the magnetic strength of his spike, and pushed forward a little more forcefully, trying to get his cable through the contracted wires to reach the socket buried within Bumblebee's port. Bumblebee let out a cry of bliss, bucking into Prowl's thrust… he wasn't sure he'd be able to stave off overload for long once Prowl actually connected.

With a blissful groan, Prowl had to pull back again and thrust again. Bumblebee pressed himself tighter to the black and white mech and they both cried out as they felt Prowl's spike connect to Bumblebee's interface socket.

After a moment of intense pleasure, Bumblebee was hit with a sharp and persistent shock of pain. He off-lined his optics as the fire of the virus sprang back up in his systems.

Underneath the heat and the stimulation, the virus had continued to spread, unable to do much more than slow his energon circulations. But with Prowl's connection it sprang to life, ripping through Bumblebee's systems to reach the open link.

Prowl's optics flashed in alarm as he felt the virus infect him through the connection and he arched back against the pain of a few frazzling circuit relays. However, after the initial shock of infection, he settled, shaking, back down onto Bumblebee's tense frame.

Bumblebee whimpered, but this time it was in pain. The virus sweeping through him to cross the connection had set his highly tender sensory-array afire… but with his sensory charge built so high, the pain was forced to co-exist with the pleasure once more and Bumblebee thought the overwhelming sensations would offline him. But he was brought back to bearable levels of pain with a few gentle strokes from Prowl over his horns.

Prowl had, even through his haze of pleasure, expected the invasion to his systems, and had set up some basic firewalls. Unlike Bumblebee, he had saved his vocal processor any damage ( but then the virus hadn't entered near it so that wasn't hard ), and his precautionary defences would keep the virus from spreading too fast or causing him too much pain for a while… especially given that he was about to initiate the systems-surge of overload, which would hopefully cripple the virus considerably before it could do either of them further serious damage. Prowl noted Bumblebee had however taken the infectious surge badly. He felt a surge of emotion much stronger than he was used to seeing Bumblebee wince and whimper in pain beneath him. He stroked the little yellow horns soothingly and dipped his helm, pressing his lips softly to Bumblebee's, who accepted the comforting gesture almost desperately.

As Prowl managed to calm Bumblebee's frazzled sensory array, the pressure of their charges pressed heavily on them once more. Their kiss deepened passionately, glossa pressing and stroking one another in imitation of the servos that were gliding up and down each other's armour, pressing hot metal plates and stroking wires to elicits moans and bucks from the other.

Prowl sent a small surge of energy through the interface link and Bumblebee gasped loudly, arching and shuddering hard against him. Prowl heard the little stressed engine rev as high as it was able before Bumblebee sent him feedback, making his door-wings twitch and shudder as he pressed himself closer to the minibot.

Prowl had not noticed Bumblebee's other servo trail from his chevron all the way down to his aft.

Prowl sent another, slightly stronger current through the link, and as Bumblebee reciprocated with more feedback, he felt a shock of bliss from beneath his interface cord. Prowl let out a loud cry of utter ecstasy. It was a moment before he realised the sensation was Bumblebee's fingers in his port. He felt his own lubricant dripping out of the opening and down the underside of his cable to mix with Bumblebee's. Prowl whimpered as three of Bumblebee's small, nimble digits dove into him, making his legs shudder as waves of pleasure emanated from his hot, over-sensitised port. Prowl now sent surges involuntarily through the connection, both of them gasping as the electricity surged between them.

Bumblebee held Prowl as close to him as he could, even though he knew he was so weak now that the other probably barely felt any pressure from his hold. He stroked the cogs in Prowl's door-wing hinges hard while he concentrated on pumping his other fingers into the tactician's very slick port in time with the surges. He would liked to have connected his own cable into Prowl's socket, making a feedback loop, but he knew he couldn't afford to risk off-lining and crashing in his weakened state, which was so much more likely in a complete connection overload.

As the two felt that they could take no more, they began to send energy through their systems directly from their sparks. Neither bothered to stifle their loud cries. Bumblebee let out cries of both pleasure and pain, as the surges from his spark highlighted the damaged circuits to his sensors… but as it had before, the pain tendered sensors buzzed with increased pleasure receptiveness.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Prowl gave himself completely to the physical sensations coursing through him, and sensitised himself to the energy coming from the other spark.

Bumblebee's fingers dug deeper into Prowl's port and door-wing joints, and Prowl found one of his servos was stroking Bumblebee's extended interface cable while the other rubbed hard at one of the little yellow horns. And then their sparks-fluctuations synchronised and both released their sensory charges.

Processor-blowing Overload took them both. They pressed hard into one another, engines whining at highest rev, chassis vibrating as their sparks blazed within them, their sensors firing with nothing but the most intense pleasure either had ever experienced. Prowl was the only one to make any sound, as Bumblebee's virus-fritzed vocaliser had seized up completely as he let out a silent cry of bliss. He was acutely aware of the frequency of Prowl's cry ringing through his audio receivers, only making the overload more intense, much in the same way the feel of Bumblebee's servos buried in his back and port was sparking further surges of ecstasy within Prowl.

It seemed an age before the blinding white of bliss through their processors relinquished.

Even as Prowl collapsed onto Bumblebee, shaking hard, the buzz of pleasure continued, ringing through every circuit in his being and singing in his spark. Bumblebee was exactly the same, but the rumble of the Datsun's engine through his chassis helped to prolong the soft wash of pleasure through his over-warm circuits and ecstatically fluttering spark.

Both cycled air hard, not moving from the position in which they had overloaded.

As Bumblebee felt the blissful buzz start to diminish, his exhaustion grew. His Optics dimmed a little.

He felt the helm that had come to rest by his move slowly, and deep azure optics shone into his for a moment before warm pliable metal met his lips and he felt a warm thrill light his lagging processor.

Overload had come and gone, but it seemed the feelings around bringing it about had not vanished from between them.

Prowl shifted a little to take the bulk of his weight off of Bumblebee (who was tougher than most bots gave him credit for and could easily handle the weight of a normal sized mech on him) and Bumblebee slowly withdrew the digits that were still buried in the tactician's port, earning a mewl and a twinge of residual pleasure feedback from Prowl through their still connected interfaces.

Prowl ran his thumb down the minibot's extended cord, still in his servo, before gently coaxing it back into it's recess in the interface circuits. Bumblebee managed to get out one or two high pitched whimpers at Prowl's parting strokes on his hyper-sensitive cord sheathing, but his vocaliser now crackled when he tried to use it. The overload had unfortunately not done the raw circuit damage much good. But still riding the haze of the blissful shared discharge, Bumblebee was not really bothered by the tiny twinges of dull pain. He and Prowl gave low, soft sympathetic moans as he finally disconnected and withdrew from Bumblebee. Prowl did not bother cleaning Bumblebee's copious amounts of excess lubricant from his cable as he recessed it and replaced his interface's cover plating. When he closed Bumblebee's, he did un-subspace a small shammy and cleaned away any lubricant that was visible on the outside of his and Bumblebee's armour.

When he was done, he looked back up at Bumblebee, and realised with a pang of concern the dim light of the minibot's optics and the hard, slow cycling through his vents.

He remembered, as he shoved the dirty shammy back into one of his sub-space pockets, that Ratchet had asked him if he had any energon rations on him, and he realised now why it was relevant. He found the small cube in his re-enforced sub-space compartment ( where he put it so no stray shots during battle could hit it and do him a nasty injury with the resulting explosion) and carefully settled himself next to Bumblebee.

"Come on… no off-lining on me now." He said gently, pulling the obviously much-weakened minibot up into his arms. Bumblebee shook slightly, but it was evident that the violent pain had subsided, which meant the virus had been weakened to the point where it's threat level had been lessened. Prowl ran a quick scan to confirm this before drawing Bumblebee a little closer. The minibot nuzzled weakly into his side, struggling to brighten his optics and keep his sluggish processor from slipping into stasis. He could feel his systems cooling again, the metal of his armour making soft cracks and pings as it contracted. "Here… you've got to keep your energy levels up until Ratchet and the others reach us. It's been one and a quarter cycles, they should reach us soon, they may have started digging already." Prowl said evenly in that smooth, melodious tone Bumblebee now craved to hear.

Prowl proffered the half-full cube of energy to him, and Bumblebee attempted to lift a servo to take it gratefully… but his servos responded so sluggishly and weakly… the full effects of the overload on his taxed systems were only just weighing on him. He was so low on energy now he had to divert all power to just staying online.

Bumblebee leaned into Prowl gratefully as he helped him drink the energon, putting it to his lips and carefully and slowly letting him process the sustaining liquid fuel. Bumblebee felt like a sparkling, and in any other situation would have felt embarrassed about it. But he had the sense that Prowl was almost enjoying himself. His nimble white fingers gently played along a seam on Bumblebee's arm where it was wrapped around him, holding him up against the Datsun's side. It sent warm tingles through Bumblebee, and he wondered if Prowl knew this and was doing it to make sure his systems remained warm.

"Any better?" Prowl asked quietly as Bumblebee finished off the small ration of fine-grade energon.

Bumblebee nodded weakly, letting his head fall onto the tactician's shoulder, keeping his optics bright and trying to pick a question out of his slightly less hazy processor to ask to keep himself engaged and online.

"S-so…how do I…ra-ate?" Bumblebee crackled out softly, the light humour evident even in his damaged vocals.

Prowl looked down at him curiously. "What do you mean exactly?" he said lightly.

"-gainst… Jazz…" Bumblebee ground out with what was unmistakeably a small snicker.

Prowl seemed to consider seriously for a moment.

"Different." he said finally.

"Diff-rent I-in… a good-d way, or… a bad wa-ay?" Bumblebee pressed mischievously, pressing a little deeper into Prowl's side to get comfortable and to hear the feint spark pulse in the chassis under his audio receiver.

Prowl's mouth curved up at one corner and his optics deepened in colour again slightly. "Oh, in the best way."

Bumblebee poked him with one of his horns. "com-me on… t-hats not… answe-ering me… properl-ly".

Prowl's door-wings, though they were pressed back up against the tunnel wall, twitched slightly as he chuckled very softly.

"Well… you are kind, extremely likeable and very considerate. You seem to interface in the same manner, with the exception that you let your selfish streak come out just enough to make things interesting while interfacing. Jazz… Jazz is the extroverted version of you, except he doesn't exactly keep his devious streak a secret, although its never more prevalent than when he's in a berth. The difference is, you are much more surprising, and he is much more… fiery, is perhaps the word… what?"

Bumblebee by this point was only hearing half of Prowl's assessment as he doubled over with crackling laughter, engine sputtering and revving.

"f…f-firey?… Jazz… YOU-U think… he's… " Bumblebee dissolved into staticy giggles as Prowl frowned a little at him, faceplate warming a little.

"Well, what would YOU call ME?" Prowl countered deflectively.

Bumblebee's engine stopped sputtering as he calmed himself to consider his answer.

"Hmmm… I bel-ieve the… human-n word… Is something-ing like… 'sex-kitten-n'."

Prowl took a brief pause as he accessed the internet and queried the phrase.

Bumblebee dissolved into strangled laughter again as Prowl baulked the same way he had when Ratchet had been jibing him about his lack of interfacing.

"I don't believe that's a highly accurate assessment personally." Prowl grumbled at him, faceplate a rich cherry colour.

Bumblebee leaned back into him, giving him another jab in the chassis with one of his horns again.

"O-ok… maybe n-not… but if s-someone… told ME-e… about you 'faci-ing someone… the way yo-ou just did m-me… I wouldn't be-lieve them… you're a LOT m-more suprising-g… than any o-ther bot… I've been wi-ith… by f-far that… was the-e biggest… over-rload… I've ever had-d." Bumblebee admitted, shifting down into Prowl's side as the tactician's arm tightened affectionately around the little yellow bot's shoulders again.

"By-y the way… yell-ow suits you."

Prowl's optics shuttered in a blink and he looked down into the feint glow his headlights shed over his chassis, noticing even in the dim lighting the bright yellow scuffs all over him.

"Not that I disagree with you, but perhaps it's best I erased the evidence. I'm not adverse to those with Ratchet knowing what we have done (had to do, Prowl thought, but then it hadn't exactly been some protocol chore ) but I doubt you want any more than I do for this to get back to some members of the Ark… at least for the time being."

"N-no no, I'm wi-ith you the-ere… I don-on't think the… twins would-d leave me… or you, al-lone about it for-r… vorns."

Prowl shuddered physically at the thought of the twins finding out as he un-subspaced a polishing rag. He cleaned Bumblebee of the black and white stripes smattering the minibot (after commenting that they did suit his name-sake rather well though, at which he laughed) before he managed to get the scuff marks off of himself.

**Prowl? You two alright down there?**

Prowl jumped as Ratchet's voice suddenly burst through his comm.-link.

**Yes. The… treatment seems to have worked. The virus has been subdued for now. I was infected as well, but I managed to set up a few basic firewalls, it is not progressing as fast through my systems as it did through Bumblebee's. How far away are you now?** Prowl responded, his usual cool, calm voice firmly back in place, although the link was private and not broadcast either way this time.

**Good. We're halfway down to you now. Hound hit some fairly solid rock deposits before, but it looks like we'll be through to you in no more than a quarter of a cycle, tops.**

Prowl, while relieved to know they would soon be free of their dark confines, found an unexpected stab of disappointment at the news. Once the others arrived, he would have to relinquish his hold on Bumblebee… would have to let Ratchet take him off to the Ark while he followed behind. The prospect of their small intimate moment ending made his Spark give a small sad quiver.

**That's good. If you hit any more snags getting to us, don't be too worried, I don't think the virus is much of a threat to either of us for a considerable time yet. I'll relay your E.T.A to Bumblebee, he should be relieved at least.**

**Shouldn't he be relieved already?** Ratchet's sly reply came through with a snigger.

Prowl didn't reply.

He hadn't noticed the minibot slowly go slack in his grip. Hadn't realised he hadn't said a word or moved since the CMO contacted him, hadn't picked up that when he physically jumped at the beginning of their conversation that Bumblebee hadn't reacted.

Prowl felt the cold tendrils of panic grip his spark.

"Bumblebee?" He said sharply, gripping the yellow shoulders a little tighter.

No response.

SLAG. How could he be so careless?

"BUMBLEBEE?" Prowl said his name so loudly it echoed off the dark walls. He felt the tiniest flicker of movement… barely a twitch…

**Prowl?**

The tactician got to his knees and dragged the beetle with him, turning Bumblebee to face him, but the other bot was slack in his grip. Prowl quickly lay him down and did another scan.

**PROWL?**

**Ratchet we have a problem. Bumblebee has slipped into recharge. I gave him the half ration of energon I had on me but I did not anticipate such a great loss of energy… His core temperature is safe but what's left of the virus still corrupting his systems is hitting his firewalls, I missed it in my last scan, it was… slag it was sitting in his vocal units, I HEARD them glitching, I didn't even… Ratchet, it's going for his CPU…**

**Primus Prowl, he's that fatigued? How hard did you Frag him? Actually, don't answer that, I'll deal with that later. Try and wake him up, he needs to be online to refresh the firewalls, don't uplink and do it yourself or your infection will only make it worse, I'll see if I can't get Hound to go any faster. Sit tight Prowl, we're doing everything we can.**

Ratchet's terse voice cut off abruptly and Prowl was left with the silent darkness and the ever slowing cycles from the minibot's ventilations.

Prowl racked his processor… he had to try and wake Bumblebee up without uplinking. Obviously sound wasn't an option, if his yell hadn't woken him before no amount of shouting would. Prowl decided that sensory stimulation was the only option, and the better option for awaking on that scale was pain rather than pleasure.

Prowl found the wound on Bumblebee's neck, with it's little arcing broken wire, and pressed a digit into it, hard.

Bumblebee's faceplate twitched, and Prowl ran consistent scans. Bumblebee's CPU sped up and increased activity when he caused him pain, which slowed the Virus' progress given the interference of signals… but Bumblebee couldn't fight the recharge protocols his system had initiated… he was just too exhausted, and if he didn't recharge, he'd go into stasis lock, and that would seize up vital systems helping to keep that virus at bay a little longer.

As much as Prowl hated having to do it, he sought out more circuit damage under the plates of Bumblebee's armour, digging into them, breaking one or two minor circuit relays himself, just to keep Bumblebee's processor from slipping into a comfortable state of relaxation in which the virus would break that last barrier into his processor and frag up Primus only knew what… Prowl didn't like to think what would be left of the Bumblebee he had just come to really know if that happened… and he wasn't sure his spark could take that loss…

How had this minibot worked his way into his very _spark_ in no more than two cycles?

After two tense breems of pinching and breaking the poor off-lined minibot's circuits, Prowl heard the rumble of Hound's drill cracking through the earth above them.

**Prowl, how is he doing?**

**One firewall protocol away from serious file corruption. He needs you now Ratchet.**

Ratchet did not miss the unusually strong emotional tone of Prowl's words, but decided to file the observation away for later queries. Clearly however, whatever had happened in the last cycle and a half had effected the tactician more than Ratchet was sure he would ever let on.

**Whatever you're doing, don't stop, I'll be there in a few nanokliks.**

It was indeed only about that long before a loud crunching of stone on stone was heard somewhere behind him and a moment later, a strong servo on his shoulder guided himback away from the prone yellow form as Ratchet appeared from no-where and up-linked directly to Bumblebee's processor to initiate a containment programme against the virus that had just been corrupting Bumblebee's last line of defence.

"You alright Prowl?" asked a very concerned Inferno as his face swam before the tactician's glazed, distracted optics.

Prowl could find no appropriate response and ended up giving a short nod in response. He looked over at Ratchet's back, most of the red and white medic's frame obscuring the still unmoving Bumblebee. Braun had also gone to his fellow Minibot's side.

Hound was somewhere behind Prowl, making sure the escape hole he had just made was stable and they weren't in danger of being caved in on again.

Prowl had been so concerned with keeping Bumblebee functional that he hadn't noticed his own problems. They were brought sharply to his attention as a sudden stab of pain alerted him that his own infection had broken through his self-structured containment lines. He let out a small gasp as the pain increased… he felt it seeping through his circuits like a slow burning fire, and all he could think of was how much he owed Bumblebee for taking that hit… for enduring a sensation as horrible as this without complaint… for him…

Prowl was beginning to wonder just how strong an impression he had made on the Beetle's spark… was this possibly a reciprocated feeling?

"Ratchet! There's something wrong with Prowl…"

"I know Inferno, he'll be fine for the moment, just let me finish here-"

Prowl tried to stand but found his servos suddenly heavy and sluggish. Apart from that, Inferno kept him down with a sympathetic look. "You should stay still, don't want you to damage anything, or Ratchet will have my aft…" he noted Prowl's almost fretful gaze on what he could see of Bumblebee through Ratchet and Braun. "Don't worry… Bumblebee's going to be ok, you did everything you could."

Prowl bit back a grunt of pain, grinding his dental plates, and merely gave another nod to Inferno. He knew the large red mech was right. Ratchet would do everything possible for Bumblebee…

And yet he couldn't shake the sickening anxiety making him want to purge his tanks… he supposed half of it was the virus, as it had just reached his fuel processor and was slowly frying a few capacitors, which was uncomfortable to say the least, but all the same he felt he could deal with that much better if he just knew Bumblebee would be alright…

It seemed like an agonisingly long time, but it was only about a breem and a half before Ratchet straightened from where he had been kneeling, hunched over the small yellow form, with a heavy sigh of his ventilations.

"There… he's safe from any serious damage now. Managed to get it before it hit his memory bank. Nasty fragger of a code though, sneaky too. Now, YOU-"

With the heavy emphasis on the last word Ratchet turned to the 2IC where he sat, braced by Inferno, who noted that rather than tense at the CMO's gruff address, he seemed to relax… but then he was shaking rather violently at the same time.

Ratchet's expression softened considerable as he came over to the black and white Datsun.

"I don't know WHAT you thought you were doing, trying to siphon that virus. Don't tell me your logic circuits got fritzed in that cave in…"

Ratchet rambled in a half-heartedly reprimanding tone as he uplinked to Prowl's systems through a port in the back of the Datsun's helm. Prowl said nothing, merely focussing a very pointed, grateful look at the CMO. The corner of Ratchet's mouth twitched, and Prowl off-lined his optics as he felt the medic get to work fire-walling and containing the rogue codes still making him twitch and jerk in pain.

Eventually, the pain receded as Ratchet cleared the viral code from each of his systems, containing it safely in a sacrificial unnecessary programme he uploaded into Prowl's drivers.

Ratchet gently disconnected from him and Prowl onlined his optics again, noting that Bumblebee and Braun were gone.

Ratchet made a staticy grunt as he got to his feet. "Right, well we gotta get you and 'Bee back to the Ark so I can use the equipment I have in the med-bay to wipe those VC's, I didn't detect any other damage while running that containment, other than minor stuff that your self-repairs should take care of once you get some recharge, so once I defrag you and you get a few cycles rest, you'll be free to get all that report filing done that's sure to be waiting for you when you get back." Ratchet spruiked him dryly. Prowl would normally have taken this with a terse, neutral air and maybe twitched his wings the tiniest bit failing to hide his annoyance at the CMO's jibes… but he felt too deflated and despondent to care much at the moment. "What will happen to Bumblebee?" he asked quietly and flatly as Inferno helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, realising he was much lower on energy than he had thought. Prowl was dimly aware of Hound sliding back down the hole he had dug and coming over to put a servo on Prowl's shoulder.

"He'll be fine, nothing a little rest and med-bay TLC won't fix." Ratchet said with a knowing grin before he moved off toward the hole and began climbing up and out. Inferno and Hound helped Prowl clamber his way up the rather long chute they had had to make to get down to them.

Prowl knew they were fairly deep, but they had been even further down than he had first estimated.

By the time they got to the surface, Prowl was utterly exhausted. Braun had already stowed the still offline Bumblebee in Ratchet's cabin as he sat in vehicle form, idling patiently. Prowl transformed, per Ratchet's orders, and Inferno hooked Hound's tow cable to Prowl's bumper to help him get back to the Ark.

Prowl felt much sorer and sorrier for himself than he would have expected as they trundled across the deserted battlefield under the setting sun. Every large rock or crater or tug from Hound's tow-hook under his bumper sent uncomfortable ripples through Prowl's chassis, his sensory array still rather tender and over-receptive, reminding him of just how hard an overload it had been… especially given it was only a one way connection.

The very thought of trying a feedback loop connection with Bumblebee made Prowl's spark flux excitedly.

Of course… that would only happen if Bumblebee wanted to explore their new and strange relationship… as well as that, he would have to inform Jazz of this whole… incident, and his feelings on the matter. And was it wise to get involved with one of his lover's underlings? There were no rules against it, but… would Jazz even want that? After all, if Prowl ended up feeling like he wanted to get closer to Bumblebee, that would invariably mean Jazz would be closer whether he wanted to be or not, given he was already in a serious relationship with Prowl.

Prowl tried to keep his logic chip at the fore of his processing, but his emotions kept asserting themselves over rational thought with anxieties about the 'what ifs' and all possible negatives… In the end Prowl knew his main worries stemmed from wanting to stop himself from getting his spark broken.

It had been hard enough for Jazz to convince him to truly let him in… one mech was one thing, and here he had already opened up to Bumblebee in ways he had never felt comfortable doing with anyone he hadn't known and trusted for vorns.

But Bumblebee wouldn't hurt a cyberfly. This thought reassured him to no end. And he was fairly sure the yellow bot had been reciprocating his feelings not half a cycle ago… but then… he had just hurt him. Whether Bumblebee was consciously aware of it or even remembered it, it did not change the fact he had been causing him pain, even if it was necessary to save him, Prowl felt sick with himself. He may have been cold and calculating in battle, against Decepticons, but the very thought of having to inflict pain upon any of his comrades (especially one he had just had one of the best frags of his life with) made him shudder with repulsion.

Perhaps it was best they keep their distance for a little while, just to let their sparks settle so they could properly and objectively analyse what had happened between them.

As the sight of the large orange ship embedded in the looming dormant volcano came closer, Prowl was struggling to stay online, let alone keep his engine running. He desperately needed some recharge to let his self repairs get to work.

**I don't suppose you're going to be submitting a report on your 'emergency field** **repairs' are you?**

Prowl vented air as the medics all too cheerful voice came through his comm. link.

**No. I assume there is no records of any field repairs the likes of which I had to perform in any medic's files is there?** Prowl queried flatly.

The medics laugh came clear over the line, making Prowl relax a little against his will as they drew nearer to the Ark doors.

**We have a fairly well known and recognised supplementary… At least other medics know it, anyone else reading the files would think nothing of it.**

**I assume you will be filing a report with said supplementary reference?** Prowl replied, his grateful tone hidden in the exhaustion in his voice.

**Yes, you don't have to worry about anyone snooping through records. Consequently, seeing as I'm bound by patient-medic confidentiality, I don't suppose you're going to tell me how it was? Judging by how completely slagged you both looked I'm guessing it was pretty-**

**PLEASE Ratchet… not right now. I'm about to stall into stasis lock. All I will say is I am quite well versed in minibot sensory-arrays now, as you predicted.**

Prowl heard the soft stutter of laughter from The ambulance's engine a little ways ahead of him as they drove into the warm orange glow of the Ark's entrance.


	2. Chapter 2

Prowl came online to cool, clean silence. As his processor slowly but effectively booted up, he started to register basic things, like the ever recognisable roof of the medical bay, and the feeling of a data feed cable in one of his neck inlets. It was a little bit longer before other things started to pass through his CPU… like why he was there and what he had been doing to land himself in the medi-bay.

"Welcome back, Prowl."

The tactician turned his remarkably clear head in the direction of the familiar voice.

His optics fell on the CMO and narrowed slightly. "I'm not sure the situation calls for such _mirth_ , Ratchet."

The medic's knowing, sly grin only grew wider. "Now don't be like that, Prowl, I have every right to be happy that you and Bumblebee have been making such speedy recoveries. Especially given the _stress_ you both must have endured while you were trapped down there together, all alone…"

Ratchet couldn't help but for his sentence to dissolve into a deep chuckle as the Datsun threw him an impressive scowl.

"You do remember what I said to you earlier about being chief tactician, don't you Ratchet?" he said, voice and optics cold as ice.

"Obviously YOU don't remember what I told YOU earlier… I'm just messing with you Prowl, it's too hard to resist. My confidentiality duties remain up-held." Ratchet replied in a kinder tone, but his optics sparked with mischief. "I even buffed the streaks off you both. Bit of a shame, really… Yellow does suit you well…"

Prowl threw the medic a soft grumpy 'humph' as he dissolved into giggles again. Prowl turned his faceplates away from the CMO so he wouldn't see the colour seeping into them. It was doubtful the medic knew that he had already been told that by someone else…

A someone else he was now staring straight at, he realised with a jolt. Lying in the berth next to his was Bumblebee. He too had wires connected to his neck inlets, but he had more leading into ports on the side of his chest plate. All the wires led to a mobile unit that had been placed between their berths. It was a large boxy piece of equipment with multiple screens and lights and made various little regulated noises as it monitored and ran diagnostic and action protocols through both him and the minibot.

Prowl felt a pang in his chassis as he realised Bumblebee had a feed to his spark as well as his processor. Generally a data link to the spark casing was only necessary in extreme cases.

"Don't worry. He'll be alright. It'll just take quite a while longer for my anti-viral software to completely download and refresh his systems. Not to mention his self repairs have a lot of micro-circuit damage to fix up. That code was a nasty fragger, you're lucky it didn't get that far through you."

"That wasn't luck." Prowl said softly, but he did not expatiate. Ratchet was silent as he mused on the tactician's statement. He knew it could just be Prowl's irrefutably logical side saying that… but he'd known the black and white 21C too long to not recognise the deeper meaning behind the simple, throw away words.

"You did the right thing by him Prowl. He's not gonna hate you for it. Only thing Bumblebee seems to have the capacity for hate for is 'Cons and the twin's games of 'toss the minibot'."

Prowl continued to stare at the prone yellow form, trying to see him as he always had before… rather than as the mech he'd had his fingers in, eliciting sweet sounds as he himself was driven by those small black servos to cry out in impassioned delight…

Prowl shook himself mentally, looking away. He wondered how long it would be before the mere sight of the minibot stopped setting of the memory files that very nearly caused his cooling fans to kick in.

Ratchet seemed to notice his reaction to Bumblebee though, even if he did manage to keep his core temp. in check.

"You won't have to worry about submitting a battle report to Prime, I've already covered it. However, you'll still have to answer to Jazz at some point, I don't wonder. And sooner is better than later."

The medic stated matter-of-factly. Prowl glanced over and met the red and white mech's optics.

He said nothing. He had avoided thinking much on the subject while he was carrying out the CMO's orders, but what he had been fairly sure of at the time was Jazz would not take it badly anyway… on the other side however…

Now his head was clear and processor unforged by stimulant signals, the task of telling his lover what he'd had no choice in doing seemed a lot more daunting.

"For the record Prowl, I don't think he'll take it badly. Might sulk for a while, but he never struck me as exceptionally _clingy_ in the first place." Ratchet offered, as though he could read the tactician's now anxious processor.

Prowl cycled a sigh through his vents. A little chiming noise came from the big boxy piece of equipment next to him that he was hooked up to.

Ratchet strode over to it from where he had been organising his tools and pressed a few buttons, shutting off the regulated chiming.

"Ok, you're done Prowl. Clean as whistle, as Sparkplug would say, though I'm not sure that's such an accurate metaphor, given humans tend to get a lot of mouth lubricant fluids in wind instruments and don't clean whistles out much that I'm aware of…" The CMO prattled away as he gently unplugged the cable in Prowl's neck, disconnecting him from the machine. Prowl sat up and flexed his joints a little. He flinched slightly as he stretched his door-wings back. They always felt a little sensitive in the hinges after…

Prowl felt his faceplate heat up again and couldn't hide it from the CMO, who stood directly In front of him. Ratchet had missed none of his reactions, and pieced the body language together flawlessly given his experience as a medic. He grinned widely and slyly again. "Looks like Bumblebee got a crash course in Datsun anatomy down there too."

Prowl grimaced at him. But the colour stayed on his faceplate because he couldn't help the memory files still flashing across the fore of his meta. Ratchet's grin only widened as his suspicions were confirmed.

"Does Prime wish to debrief me?" Prowl asked, the merest inflection of apprehension in his quiet tones.

"Nope. I told you I already took care of it, I gave him a report on the incident on Bumblebee's and Your behalf, and being CMO it means my report can be an officiated substitute for yours. Prime has also allowed me to debrief you, which is what I've just done. You're free to go, but in saying that, I mean you're to go and get a cube of energon and head straight to your quarters for some recharge. And no going over any data pads, I mean it, you need the recharge for that download to properly install."

Prowl merely nodded in understanding as he slid off the berth and stood on stiff feeling leg struts.

"Will you comm. me when Bumblebee comes back online?" Prowl asked softly, his voice even and without trace of any particular feeling or inflection.

Ratchet gave him an inquisitive, gentle look (which Prowl knew was a rare look to receive from the normally gruff CMO ) before giving him a nod.

"He did you good, Prowl." Ratchet said simply before he returned to the machine that was still hooked up to the offline minibot, checking his progress.

Prowl gave him a slightly startled look before he left the medical bay, musing on the words.

He decided, as he walked through the corridors of the Ark, being greeted with more vigorous cheer than normal by those who passed him, that Ratchet was right. He was feeling… lighter. And yet, at the same time, his CPU was getting more crowded with new thoughts and realisations and complications relating to the underground incident between him and Bumblebee.

In fact, as he walked into the rec. room, he realised that light feeling was merely an afterglow… and would very soon fade to be replaced by all the worrying nagging lines of code that his logic circuits were not helping him with in the least.

Ratchet was right, of course. The sooner he told Jazz, the better… but then his processor began running through the possible reactions the saboteur might have.

Jazz was easy going, but more so professionally than privately. He dealt with his uneasiness in private, what there was of it. If anything ever did manage to bother him, he would postpone dealing with it until he was alone, or more recently, until he could have a private moment with the 2IC. Prowl was always happy to give Jazz advice when he needed it, and more than Prowl knew, the head of special ops had become dependant on him for his calm, logical, assuredness. It was a stabiliser and a comfort to someone who had to be fluid and ungrounded.

While Prowl might not be aware just how much Jazz relied on him emotionally, he knew acutely that he could not always predict his often illogical lover. And while Ratchet was right in his assessment that Jazz was not consistently clingy or over-possessive, he could get very… intense, when he was in an attentive mood towards the tactician. It was possible he might feel very intense if he found his lover had had to get intimate with another… oh, he would get over the act itself, it had been necessary, and what was more it was to save one of his best team-members…

But the fact that Prowl had _enjoyed_ it. He couldn't lie to himself. He remembered the way the embarrassment and awkwardness had so quickly melted away to be replaced by fresh, true passion, which he hadn't experienced since he first fell for Jazz, and yet he had recognised it instantly as the same feeling, if not perhaps a little different in it's… flavour…

It was these feelings he was afraid Jazz would be hurt by…

Prowl took the energon ration he had dispersed and gave a curt nod to Wheeljack as he caught his optics and waved cheerily at the 2IC.

Prowl was still lost in his own, very unlike him thoughts, as he made his way slowly back out of the crowded rec. room, making distracted responsive acknowledgments to the mechs greeting him.

He mused on the different kinds of feelings he had towards Jazz and now Bumblebee.

Jazz was spicy, if he had to choose a word… sincere, but certainly not tentative, and vehement in his efforts to please his lover when they were together.

Bumblebee… while he had that curious coy streak, no doubt developed in his desperate lack of intimate relationships, he still retained that kind, deeply loving nature, which was exceptionally warming. There was still some feeling of innocence with Bumblebee. While Jazz didn't have this, Prowl knew there was the capacity for hurt within the saboteur, a hurt he may or may not express once he learned that Prowl had feelings for more than just him. Would he be disappointed? Perhaps he only ever wanted Prowl to himself, and it wouldn't be unfair to assume that a mech like Prowl wasn't likely to ever develop feelings for another mech, it had been so hard for Jazz to coax them out of him towards him in the first place. But they HAD been there, it had just been so new to Prowl at the time he hadn't recognised it very quickly.

But the newfound affections for the yellow minibot had taken mere cycles to emerge. Something else that might sting the saboteur…

"Heeey Prowler! You're looking mighty fine, Ratchet musta fixed ya up good!"

Prowl very nearly jumped, a slight twitch of his wings the only indication of surprise as he felt a very familiar arm thrown over his shoulders. Jazz had caught him just before he was out the door.

A thrill of both ecstatic affection and anxious fear fluttered through his spark as his lover grinned at him, visor glowing happily.

"Jazz." was all the tactician said, but his quiet tone said all that he needed it to, no other words necessary. Jazz beamed, recognising the affection that no other mech would have picked from the mere mention of the saboteurs' name.

"I heard you saved my best spy." Jazz went on, unaware that the statement made Prowl's spark pulse just that bit faster with well hidden nervousness.

"I really oughta give ya a proper thankyou for that." He added in a low, suggestive tone Prowl usually found exceptionally inviting… but right now it made his tank churn with the slightest unease…

He would have loved nothing more right now than to take Jazz with him to his quarters and re-establish their affections the way they hadn't been able to in orns, but apart from the internal turmoil of how to break his new feelings over a certain other mech he'd like to introduce to their growing bond, he had Ratchet's orders to think about. And he doubted the anti-viral software would install properly if he went and interfaced the pit out of Jazz before it had integrated into his systems properly. Systems that were STILL, he realised, reeling from his LAST overload.

"I'm sorry Jazz, but I'll have to take a raincheck, as the humans say. Medics orders I'm afraid, anti-viral software download. I'm supposed to drink my energon and take some recharge like a good mech. No pre-recharge data-pad reviews or other pleasant activities before either of those things I'm sorry to say." the tactician explained calmly and with the slightest tint of regret to his tone as he leaned a little into the blue and white mech's side.

Jazz loved Prowl's oh so subtle shows of emotion, because he knew just how truly deep the tactician's feelings ran with him, and it spoke more volumes to the saboteur than any open displays of exaggerated affection ever could.

"Ah, I getcha. Wouldn't wanna get the Hatchet on your case, but slag I've been missin' ya Prowler. Hey, how's Bumblebee doin' by the way? I heard he was pretty bad by the time they got t'ya both. Inferno said you were pretty shaken up…"

Jazz's tone turned from coy to concerned as he accepted he'd have to wait a little longer to enjoy his free time back with the Datsun.

Prowl merely bowed his head a little. "Ratchet said he will be up and about again soon. I must admit, I thought they might have been too late… the virus progressed faster and more alarmingly than we anticipated… you know he took a shot that was meant for me?" Prowl said quietly, choosing his words carefully, teetering on saying something, on possibly dropping the details of the virus, perhaps Jazz would work out for himself what he'd had to do, he knew a lot about less conventional forms of field repair, given the need for them in his line of work. Primus, would it be any easier if Jazz ended up broaching the subject, rather than him having to tell the mech he loved that he'd gone and fragged another bot because he had to, but he'd _liked_ it so much more than he thought he would…

Jazz noted the strange stance and phrase of words that the tactician took, but he put it down to some awed sense of gratitude towards the yellow spy whom he was probably yet to show his thanks to… the fact that Bumblebee was still out was probably making him feel guilty to top it off.

"Yea, I knew. And then you went and got yourself infected anyway tryin' ter help him over-ride the virus. Not very like you to do somethin' so stupid. Thought you'd know only medics had the software for that kinda thing." Jazz said quietly, but he was beaming in a way that suggested he was proud of what Prowl did.

"It was rather foolish in hindsight. I do not regret it though, I managed to buy him some time… although it almost wasn't enough." Prowl answered, his processor screaming at him for perpetuating the lie to Jazz (it was obviously the 'official' story, though he had guessed that when Ratchet had first reached them in that tunnel and yelled at him for doing what Jazz had just re-iterated he had apparently done), but his logic chip assured him that technically, he wasn't actually lying to the saboteur… he didn't regret the actions he HAD taken, and it HAD bought Bumblebee time… he just wasn't clarifying exactly what the actions _were_ …

"Ya do seem like you could use a good recharge. I'll letcha go Prowler, but don't think ahm gonna forget that raincheck." He said quietly, one side of his visor flickering dim before alighting again, in what Prowl knew was a wink.

Prowl almost regretted the black hand slipping away from his shoulder, but did not miss the casual brush against one of his door-wings, which twitched rather sharply in response, still very over-sensitive.

Jazz gave him one last quizzical look at the (for Prowl) over-reaction.

"You are right. The virus has been cleared from my systems, but unfortunately my sensor net is still on edge from it." he cringed inwardly as he actually did lie, but he was careful not to let the regret show on his face.

Jazz seemed satisfied with the answer. "Slaggin' shame I can't make use of that. Coulda blown your processor… have to double my efforts once you're fightin' fit again." Jazz promised before he left with a coy smile and sauntered off into the rec room and back over to the twins, who it seemed he'd been watching a holo-vid with before he had caught sight of Prowl.

Sighing through his vents, Prowl walked with a little more pace towards his quarters. He met less mechs now, as most were either starting shifts or already spending their off-time in the rec room.

Prowl reached his door and punched in the code, taking a sip of his energon as he entered. He was going to walk through his office and straight to his quarters, when something caught his eye.

He went to his desk and picked up a small coded data-chip. He recognised the type, it was from Red-alert. Curious, and thinking he wasn't technically defying Ratchets orders, as the medic had said nothing about watching vid-files, he grabbed a data pad, the info-chip, and went to his recharge room.

Once he had settled on his berth, still sipping his Energon contentedly, he slipped the chip into the data pad port and accessed the text file attachment before going anywhere near the vid-file. He knew how this worked. It was a present. Whenever Red-Alert seemed to think he needed cheering up or had something he particularly wanted to share with the 2IC out of great amusement, he would drop off one of these un-assuming but particular chips, and generally there would be some small note of prologue before Prowl was to view whatever it was that Red-Alert had caught someone doing on the Ark.

Prowl read the short message with curious bemusement in his optics, taking another swig of energon.

_~Welcome back, thought you might enjoy this. He seemed to. -Red~_

Truly intrigued by the message from his slightly devious friend, Prowl opened the vid-file with a growing sense of pleasant anticipation.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a long, low groan from the other end of the ward.

"Morning sunshine." Ratchet called without looking up from the part he was repairing.

It was a few more kliks before he got any response other than muffled sounds of pain.

"Ratchet… why do I feel like Grimlock stepped on m- oh….oooh…"

Ratchet smiled widely to himself as Bumblebee's processor obviously caught up with the rest of him.

"…This is like the worst cheap high-grade hangover I've ever had." Bumblebee moaned quietly.

"YOU'VE slagged yourself on cheap high-grade? I wouldn't pick you for a bot who knew what THAT felt like." said Ratchet as he looked up to see the minibot had sat himself up against the raised back-rest of the berth, one servo on his head, optics dim, looking faintly like he wanted to purge his tanks.

"Yea… but that was the first time I tried the stuff, I didn't know the difference, and everyone else seemed to take it fine, so I just… went with it… Primus this is about what it felt like, I kinda hoped I'd never be stupid enough to feel this again." Bumblebee explained

"Don't worry, it's just the after-effects of that virus. Very nearly got into your CPU. It's taken my software quite a while to clear it out of your system, but your download should be complete by now- aah, there we go." Ratchet dropped the part he was fixing and walked over to the machine still hooked up to the minibot, which had just begun chiming.

"Lie back down for a nanoklik, just gotta disconnect you."

Bumblebee did what he was told, only just realising he had data feeds to both his neck and chassis. When he noticed the data feed to his spark chamber he seemed even closer to purging.

"Don't worry kid, it's not bad. Just faster and safer to include a chassis uplink. Your Processor was in more danger of being fried than your engine or spark." Ratchet said reassuringly as he began shutting off the machine and carefully detaching the cables hooked up to the yellow frame.

"I remember you calling in to Prowl to say you were getting closer to our location… but after that I… did I blackout or something? What happened?" Bumblebee asked quietly, faceplate pulling into a confused frown.

It became even more confused when he saw the CMO grinning.

"You fell into recharge kid. Must've felt pretty at ease to do that. Can't think why, with a dangerous virus in your systems…"

Bumblebee actually scowled, but it looked more like a pout than anything so Ratchet stiffled his sniggers as he stored away the disconnected cables.

"Thing is, that virus didn't get totally fragged when you did, and it pounced again the moment you offlined your meta. When I got to you, It was nearly done with your last firewall. Thankfully, I managed to get there just in time to bolster your defences and contain the rogue code. You were totally out of it by then though. You have been for about a day cycle and a half." Ratchet explained.

Bumblebee seemed appropriately irked by the information that he had come so close to his processor being badly corrupted… and all because he'd been as stupid as to let himself fall into recharge! If he hadn't been feeling so sluggish and sore right then, he would have kicked himself.

He realised with a jolt, as Ratchet put his hand on his shoulder reassuringly, that it wasn't soreness he was feeling in his frame… his sensor net was on edge, he was hyper sensitive.

And of course, he realised why instantly, silver faceplate going a bright cherry colour.

Just as he had noticed all the nuances of the 2IC's expression, Ratchet missed none of the minibot's reactions as the first memory replays started. But he couldn't bring himself to tease Bumblebee as much as he had done to Prowl. Bumblebee didn't really deserve it anyway, after all, he had nearly lost his cognitive abilities taking that shot for the tactician. Ratchet felt he should be buying him a round of high-grade for it, but then he figured Prowl had given him quite a 'thankyou' already.

"So… how long until I can go back on duty?" Bumblebee asked tentatively, hoping not to provoke Ratchet's temper. It wasn't like he was especially eager to escape (he did still feel a little like he might purge his tanks if he got up and moved around), but it never really took much to rile 'the Hatchet' up.

Ratchet, who had just remembered to ping Prowl, gave Bumblebee a calculating look.

Deciding that the Beetle merely wanted to know out of interest rather than a wish to leave right then, Ratchet answered while running a scan to see that the virus protection software was installing properly.

"I'll keep you in for another two cycles at most, gotta let your systems settle and that software integrate, and by then you should start to feel a little less like purging. But you'll be on light duties until I'm sure you're well enough to do otherwise." he finished with a mild warning tone, But Bumblebee un-tensed, glad he had not incurred the medic's wrath.

Ratchet moved back over to the bench where he had been fixing the piece of equipment for Wheeljack and received an answer ping from Prowl that he was on duty.

Ratchet found this more fortuitous than anything. It meant he could question Bumblebee without the tactician interrupting and ruining his fun.

Bumblebee had remained lying down on the berth, waiting for his systems to re-sync and his tank to stop churning unpleasantly. His processor was buzzing, and he tried his hardest not to move, because every small scrape against the berth seemed to set off his sensory relays, and he would get a lurching feeling from the over-sensitised sensations that were somewhere between pleasure and pain.

"So, how was it?"

Ratchet's voice cut the air and made Bumblebee jump. And then his faceplate burned again.

"I…uh…what?" Bumblebee could only manage to stutter incoherently.

"C'mon, I'm about the only person you could tell who is bound legally never to breath a word. So, _how was he?_ " Ratchet said conversationally.

"What, Prowl?" Bumblebee blurted, quite aghast that the CMO was just coming right out and asking rather than taking his usual tactic of hinting and jibing.

Ratchet rolled his optics in a mannerism he had picked up from Sparkplug. "No, Cosmos. OF COURSE PROWL, I mean who _else_ could you have fragged lately that I'd know about?"

Bumblebee let out a small exclamation before muting his vocaliser for a moment.

When he eventually got it online again, he said prudishly "I'm not really sure that's any of your business."

Ratchet actually guffawed at this.

"Aw, don't tell me you aren't _itching_ to tell someone. Must've been slagging awesome if you're that embarrassed to talk about it." Ratchet said slyly.

Bumblebee mouthed at thin air for a moment before clearing his vocaliser with a small burst of static.

"I'm not Sideswipe you know, I don't exactly make a habit of talking openly about my… experiences."

Ratchet snorted through his vents, "That's because you don't have any frequent _experiences_ with anyone on the Ark to talk about."

Bumblebee gave him a pointed, dignified frown. "And how would you know?"

"I'm CMO. It's my job to keep personal tabs on the function and well being of the bots assigned to this ship. And anyone could tell from a light-year away that you don't have any regular interface partners." Ratchet replied coolly as he picked up the part he was working on and raised it to optic level to inspect his work, pointedly ignoring Bumblebee's frown.

Bumblebee remained silent… why would he want to tell Ratchet anything about what had happened between him and Prowl?

 _Well,_ started a little voice in his CPU, _a second opinion might help you determine whether it really was a one off, or whether this could be the start of something else. Don't forget, things were said down there… things not normally shared between bots who are merely acquaintances bordering on friendship._

Bumblebee could barely believe his own processor… was he seriously thinking of discussing this with Ratchet?

But then… he knew well enough the CMO was not an uptight mech… certainly he was more laid back than Cliffjumper for spark's sake… it's not like he probably didn't discuss 'experiences' among a few of his closer friends in the higher ranks. They were probably ALL curious as to what Prowl was 'like' in respect to intimate situations. So closed off was the 2IC that he was almost a coveted curiosity.

Although… Ratchet had said he was legally bound not to discuss this information with anyone else.

Bumblebee suddenly realised part of him was already wondering where to begin telling him.

"It's alright kid. I just figured you might want to get some stuff off your chest plate. You did just go straight from professional relationship to straight out intimacy with him, if you feel uneasy, talking through it can help." Ratchet said calmly, back to his more professional self.

Bumblebee stared at the ceiling for few more nanokliks, not really seeing it.

"Well… yea. It is weird…"

Bumblebee shifted just a little, trying to get a bit more comfortable but only succeeding to set off his sensors again. The one in his side where Prowl had started pinged particularly strongly… a few memories flitted across his meta and he felt his core temperature rise a little.

"…the thing is, it was… well it was slagging _awesome._ " Bumblebee admitted a little breathlessly.

He glanced over at Ratchet, who was now ignoring the part in his hand and looking at Bumblebee with a mix of surprise and intense curiosity.

"Knows what he's doing then?" Ratchet commented with unhidden amusement.

"A little too well by my accounts." Bumblebee admitted, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his faceplate. "Not that I don't, thanks very much." He added, his coy side now teased out as he relaxed a little more.

"Oh really?" said Ratchet offhandedly, reading the new tone to Bumblebee's voice and playing on it to elicit deeper answers from the small yellow mech.

"Yes really. Just because I don't have a harem of frag buddies, doesn't mean I haven't had my share of practice. I'm not against… _casual_ relations, but I prefer to keep something that intimate to relationships with more time and trust in them."

"So, are you going to work backwards with this one? Put the time and trust in after the interface?" Ratchet asked, more serious this time.

Bumblebee was silent for a moment.

"I… it… well, it depends on how Prowl feels…"

"mmmmm." Ratchet replied non-commitaly. He honestly couldn't judge on the minibot's behalf what Prowl was feeling towards him. Certainly he didn't seem cold towards Bumblebee, but Ratchet couldn't tell if the Tacticians' grateful demeanour had been just that, or the surface of deeper, true affection bourne from this incident.

"He doesn't… did he… say anything? Was he here?" Bumblebee asked, looking back over at the Medic with an apprehensive air.

"Yea, I had to treat him too. He came online half a day cycle before you, I sent him off for some energon and recharge. He's on light duties at the moment, doing inventory I think… he DID ask me to ping him when you came around though, I have the feeling he wanted to talk to you." Ratchet replied with meaning.

Bumblebee was silent again. Even with the memories replaying in his meta… thinking of how comfortable they had both become with each other in such a short time… Bumblebee had truly enjoyed it, Primus it had frankly _blown his processor…_ just thinking about it made him want to seek out the Datsun's company… just to be around the mech who had made him feel that good.

And yet… there was something nagging him… what if Prowl _didn't_ feel the same way? What if he'd just been caught up in the heat of the moment… it was possible, he'd said it had been a while since he and Jazz had interfaced, and Bumblebee knew things could be felt and said and done in the heat of intimacy when you hadn't gotten any in a while that seemed very real… but once the heat died down the processor could clear and things could turn out _very_ differently.

Bumblebee felt a small pang in his spark to think that perhaps Prowl _didn't_ feel the same way. What if they went back to normal? Bumblebee personally didn't feel he could, but he was a very different mech to Prowl, and he had to remember this. He'd had a hard time understanding just how Prowl worked in the first place, let alone predict his reaction to an incident like this.

"For what it's worth, I think he cares about you. I'm not sure if it's more than friendly, but I don't think he'll shirk you off." Ratchet said soothingly, reading the minibot's expression as he processed what looked like worrying thoughts. He decided taking Bumblebee's CPU off the thoughts of what would be said and putting them back onto memories would be better for him.

"So when you say amazing…"

The minibot gave him a quizzical, almost pained sideways glance, as though wondering if he really was going to bring the conversation back to that.

"… amazing _how_?"

Bumblebee scowled, but his coy side was stirred again.

"Well, what do YOU think? You wanted him to drag it out, he's a Tactician, he managed the task very tactfully." Bumblebee replied shortly, but with a more teasing tone. If Ratchet wanted details, he'd have to play Bumblebee's way to get them.

Ratchet put his servos on his hips, the project on the bench completely forgotten about a breem ago.

"What'd he do? Plan a course across your chassis that would logically make your core temperature rise one degree per klik?" Ratchet asked snidely, well aware that the minibot was going to play him along, and if he wanted to know anything, he had no choice but to go with it.

Bumblebee buzzed through his vents in his version of a snort. "No, I don't think he was even measuring my core temperature. He was a little too busy inside my plating… and then of course, he didn't get much room to plan anything when I stuck my servo under his bumper." Bumblebee admitted, sly smile plastered on his faceplate.

Ratchet's optics widened, but then a knowing smile crossed his features. "So you just couldn't let him go for it without reciprocating hmm? Well, if he didn't enjoy that, he'd probably have used his stasis-cuffs on you, so that's probably a good sign." Ratchet sniggered.

"Hmmm… that could have been fun too, didn't think of that…" Bumblebee muttered, seemingly to himself.

It was a moment before Ratchet realised he was gaping at the minibot after that statement.

"Wouldn't have picked you for that kind of thing… that's more Jazz's forte."

"What?" Bumblebee looked over at him with wide optics.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you didn't hear about _that._ He's your superior officer, I thought for sure you knew about Smokescreen finding him cuffed to his berth and out like light. I don't need to uphold patient confidentiality about that, cause technically he wasn't in here for that, although I did have to repair some minor dents and wire wear on his servo joints not long ago. Which probably means he and Prowl like that game quite a bit." Ratchet winked an optic, and Bumblebee couldn't help but laugh. His laughter was cut short with a small queasy noise, as he found the action upset his still delicate sensors and holding tank.

"Oh Primus… I wonder how Jazz is going to take this…" Bumblebee said suddenly, voice thin with anxiety.

"Aaaah, Jazz is a big mech, he'll get over it. If Prowl makes a fuss of ya, you might find he wants to see what Prowl's talking about, if you get my drift…" Ratchet said slyly with a grin.

Bumblebee did not seem to find that prospect as interesting as Ratchet however.

"But… you said it yourself, he's my superior officer-"

"So is Prowl." Ratchet cut across him shortly.

"Yes, but not the one I report to _directly._ I answer to Jazz on pretty much a daily basis… and he's my friend. I know he won't mind that Prowl had to do it to save me, but he'd probably mind how I feel about the mech he's in a relationship with."

"And how DO you feel about Prowl?" Ratchet asked calmly.

Bumblebee was rendered silent for a moment, somewhat taken aback by the abrupt question, not having really realised he'd pretty much just admitted he had some feelings on the matter.

"I… I don't know if it was just the heat of the moment or… something. But I… I want to be around him. I LIKE him, I do… I-" Bumblebee had to make a concerted effort to force the revelation out of his vocaliser for his own sake as much as to answer Ratchet. But it suddenly felt like he had an awful lot he needed to get off his processor on the matter…

"I think I have feelings for him… how can that be when it was one interface? ONE! And it's not like I ever even thought about him like that before, he was just another mech I didn't really know but, you know, we'd talk if we were around one another long enough, but usually just stuff about missions. And I don't know if he feels like that, or if it was just the circumstances down there that made him… I don't know, he really seemed to feel the same way down there, but what if that was just the heat of the moment? What if he just acted like that to help me because I took that shot for him?"

"Whoa, calm down there Bee, you're going all Bluestreak on me… one thing at a time, OK? It's not that unusual to discover feelings through your first intimate contact with a certain mech. Don't go worrying over whether the feelings are real." Ratchet tried to soothe some of the Minibot's worries, but he had, it seemed, finally tapped the well of anxiety he had suspected the incident might create.

"I know the feelings are real, Ratchet… that's not what I'm worried about, I'm worried that HE doesn't have the same feelings… and then there's Jazz, what's he going to think? They're already together, I'm about the last third cog they could possibly want!" Bumblebee exclaimed.

"Now don't say that. You know perfectly well what kind of a mech Jazz is. He's above jealousy, and he's not about to go and mouth off at you for feelings you can't help, even if they are for his partner. Frankly, I think he'd enjoy the idea of an addition to the relationship, but that's just my opinion. And what's more, I won't have you degrade yourself like that, you're not some third cog, if you were do you think Prowl would have been so attentive in saving your life?" Ratchet stated firmly, having walked back to the berth in which the yellow bot lay, faceplate displaying his obvious internal turmoil.

Bumblebee considered Ratchet's words for a moment. His expression seemed to ease a little.

"Yea… you're right, Jazz wouldn't hate me, but… I like how we are, I don't want to wreck that. I just… I'm so used to not being seen as anything other than everyone's friend and never anything _more,_ I have trouble with the idea that anyone would actually want me like that… and Jazz's never seemed to see me like that before, he never made any indication like he did…" Bumblebee trailed off uncertainly

"Yea, well bots might SEE you as more of a prospect if you didn't keep hiding that little devious streak of yours that Prowl seems to have uncovered so well under that innocent faceplate of yours." Ratchet grumbled good-naturedly.

"Hey, that's not something I feel comfortable acting out in public… I used to, and it tended to attract all the wrong kinds of mechs…" Bumblebee mumbled with a small shudder.

Ratchet made a noise of understanding. "That's a fair point. Plus, I suppose Prowl appreciates it remaining hidden… sounds like you two are a better match than anyone might've guessed actually…"

Bumblebee gave him another pained quizzical look, so Ratchet explained his statement further.

"From what you've hinted, it sounds to me like Prowl's got his own hidden devious streak… not that a stasis-cuffed Jazz wasn't enough of a clue for me already."

"Yea, well… maybe Prowl just found it a nice change to have a bot who wasn't so extroverted to play with…" Bumblebee muttered before he failed to stifle the tiniest giggle.

"I really hope it wasn't just a one off… and I wish he wasn't on duty, I really want to know for sure, sooner rather than later."

"Yea, well that's something Jazz has too much experience with, and something you'll have to get used to if anything comes of this. If there's one thing you can be sure of with Prowl, its that duty comes first. Sometimes that duty is to his relationships, but a lot of the time I'm afraid it's his work." Ratchet said, sighing through his vents.

Ratchet suddenly stood up straight, distracted. Someone was pinging him, Bumblebee realised.

"Come on in Wheeljack." Ratchet called, remotely unlocking and opening the medbay doors.

"Hey Ratch, what's with the Fortress-Maximus style security? Oh hey Bumblebee! how are you? Heard what you did, I gotta tell you, Cliffjumper is so jealous you out-gutsied him." Wheeljack said cheerily, audio panels flashing brightly as he strode up the ward to them.

"Sorry about that 'Jack, didn't want the Twins getting in while Bumblebee was resting up. You know what those fraggers are like, no respect for the injured." Ratchet said coolly, Bumblebee appreciating how good of a liar the Medic was. Bumblebee knew full well Ratchet had locked that door to keep their conversation private… not that he'd put it past the two Lamborghinis to try and eavesdrop, but they didn't usually bother or tease Bumblebee unless he was fighting fit.

"I bet he is. Tell him I'd be happy to swap places with him at the moment if he likes." Bumblebee replied to Wheeljack's comment with a weak smile.

Wheeljack chuckled, but his gaze on the yellow minibot was scrutinising and his concern was evident. Bumblebee was still laying down, waiting for his tank to stop churning (although he suspected that had less to do with the after-effects of the virus and more to do with anticipating his talk with a certain Datsun ), and he was sure he must have still looked like pit.

"Well I won't disturb you for long, I just came to see how that part was coming along Ratch'."

The two discussed the mechanism Ratchet had been putting together when Bumblebee had come online, and Bumblebee wasn't aware of whether Wheeljack stayed very long, because he soon fell back into recharge as his systems continued to slowly re-align.

* * *

When Bumblebee next came online, he found himself alone in the med-bay.

He sat up, glad to find he felt a lot better. He stretched his servos and arms out, rotating his joints a little to get the stiffness of stasis out of them.

Just as he was wondering how long he'd been out, someone pinged him.

It was Jazz, and Bumblebee automatically sent a greeting answer.

The blue, white and black head of special ops strode through the med-bay doors grinning from audio to audio and carrying two cubes of energon.

"Heeey Bee my man, how ya feelin'?"

Bumblebee smiled tentatively. He felt like he could just act as he normally would towards his commanding officer and friend, but he just couldn't ignore the nagging worries in the back of his processor over what Jazz would soon have to know… if of course, he didn't know already…

Bumblebee suddenly felt a whole lot more nervous.

"Well, better. At least I don't feel like purging my tanks anymore." Bumblebee said with a crooked smile as he moved his neck around a bit to loosen it up.

"That's good news, cause Ratchet wants ya ta fill 'em up." Jazz chimed, handing him the cube and plopping himself down on the end of the berth.

"Oh, where is he?" Bumblebee asked as he accepted the cube gratefully, only just realising how low on fuel he was and that he was quite famished.

"In Wheeljack's lab. I came to see how you were doin' and he met me on the way, told me to take you some energon while I was at it. He said I was gonna be waitin' for ya to online again, but looks like you're in sync again." The saboteur beamed at him.

"I only just came around again actually. But yea, I will be in sync after this, thanks." Bumblebee said, indicating to the cube before taking a generous swig. He never thought energon could taste so satisfying, but then he didn't often get into situations that caused his reserves to redline.

"An' here's a toast to ya, for taking that shot. You're a damn good mech Bee, n' ahm proud to have you on my team." Jazz said genially, raising his cube and taking a decent draft himself.

Bumblebee nearly backwashed a little of his energon. His faceplate went bright at the sudden unexpected praise.

"Aw Jazz, you really don't have to… I was just doing what anyone else would've…" he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Yea… but Prowl, he wasn't doin' what any other bot would…"

Bumblebee's optics widened a little in alarm, but Jazz didn't notice as he hid it behind another sip of his energon…

"that slag-head was a lot stupider than most other mechs woulda been, tryin ta siphon that virus outta ya… then again, most other bots wouldn't even have thought of that. An' ya did both come good in the end, so no harm done huh?"

"Oh… yea, I suppose so." Bumblebee said, somewhat surprised, but also a little relieved. Part of him had been hoping Jazz would confront him about it, so that it was out in the open and they could just deal with it then and there… but evidently jazz did not know the _real_ story, and it sounded like Ratchet had made up a different one for everyone else to believe.

"I suppose he bored ya into stasis down there for two cycles?" Jazz mumbled, and to Bumblebee's surprise he sounded a little… embarrassed.

"No, not really." Bumblebee replied truthfully, and Jazz looked up at him curiously.

"He's really not as… uptight as everyone thinks he is… as _I_ thought he was…I can see why you like him." Bumblebee went on softly, very careful in his choice of words. _Slag_ he wished he could just talk about it openly with Jazz… profess why exactly he knew what the saboteur saw in the tactician… share with his friend what must be a mutual feeling of awe at the Datsun's interfacing methods…

Bumblebee hid his face with a long sip from his cube, draining it past halfway. He wondered what he would do once it was empty and couldn't hide his burning faceplate behind it.

Jazz was looking at him appreciatively, as though glad to finally find someone who understood his taste in mechs. "Ah, Prowler can be a softie when he wants ta. An I know he likes ya. Don't feel too bad if he seems a bit cold back on duty, that's just his way. I know he appreciates what ya did no end Bee, pretty much told me so 'imself."

"You've seen him since we got back?" Bumblebee said, sounding curious, but feeling a whole lot more confused than anything else.

"Yea, caught him when he grabbed some energon on Ratch's orders. couldn't talk ta me for long though, he had ta get some recharge. He was pretty much back on shift as soon as he was online again though. I came ta see ya soon as I finished my patrol. I think he wants to do the same. But he ain't gunna be finished for another two cycles." the Saboteur explained.

So Prowl had seen Jazz since… and he hadn't even hinted anything? Hadn't given him any sort of heads up on what had happened?

Bumblebee knew he still wasn't entirely familiar with the way Prowl worked, but from what he knew, he thought the usually very upfront and blunt mech would have said _something_ to Jazz the first chance he got.

Evidently he didn't know the 'softie' Prowl that Jazz was talking about as well as he might like… it seemed he may well have the same apprehensions that Bumblebee did. He probably needed more time to think up how to approach it with his lover, he WAS a tactician after all, knowing how to approach this sort of thing was his forte… at least Bumblebee hoped it was, because he didn't think he could begin to know how to tell Jazz… what was more he didn't feel he really had the right to.

"Earth ta 'Bee, ya readin' me buddy?"

Jazz's bemused, crookedly grinning faceplate swam before Bumblebee's optics and he focused, realising he had become lost in his own line of code.

"Oh, sorry Jazz… just wondering about some stuff…"

"Anythin' botherin ya? Ya look a little lost." Jazz said gently with a hint of concern.

Bumblebee shook his head, off lining his optics to concentrate on thinking up an appropriate excuse for his distracted moment.

"Just thinking about that weapon the Decepticons were using. They didn't just want to take Prowl out… they wanted to really make him suffer. I'm worried they may still have it in for him if they find out he's alright and still thwarting their plans."

It wasn't so much a lie as merely a misdirection of the truth. The fear Bumblebee voiced WAS true however, and it had nagged him even down in the hole they had been trapped in, except he had been rather distracted from the thought for a while.

Jazz's expression was serious, which only told Bumblebee that he had the same concern.

"Wouldn't put it past the dirty slaggers. Ahm gonna be speakin' ta Prime about keeping' Prowl off the field for a while, just until the 'cons stop seein' him as a threat to target. He can still do his job behind tha scenes. He won't like it, but I don't think he'll argue. Not if ya help me convince him anyway." Jazz grinned suddenly, flickering the light of his visor on one side in a wink.

Bumblebee smiled nervously.

Despite the fact he was trying to keep his feelings towards Jazz as normal as before, his processor wouldn't stop throwing up the implications of the saboteurs innocent statements in context with what they hadn't revealed to the head of special ops.

Having finished his energon, and feeling much refreshed by the energy coursing into his still repairing but re-aligned systems, Bumblebee decided it was time to escape the possibility of anymore awkward moments. Plus he didn't think it was wise to dwell on the image of him helping Jazz convince Prowl to stay on the Ark, as it was twisting into something a lot less innocent in his meta than the spy was used to thinking of when it involved the saboteur.

"I kinda feel like I should be making myself useful… is there a shift I should be starting anytime soon? Ratchet said I could go back to light duties after two cycles, and it feels like it's been that long."

Jazz chuckled.

"No holding ya down is there? No wonder ya got on so well with Prowl, you two are veritable workaholics." Jazz said teasingly, not noticing Bumblebee's feint blush at being told by Jazz he was like his lover. He jumped off the edge of the berth where he had perched and comm.'d Ratchet.

**Hey Ratchet? Got a minibot here who's just itchin' ta get back ta work. You OK with me lettin' him loose?**

**Yea, if he's done refuelling and feels up to it, he's fine to go. But light duties only, got it? Something where he isn't moving around a lot, his self-repairs have still got some work to do.**

Ratchet replied with his usual gruff warning tone.

**Thanks Ratch-man, don't worry, I'll make sure Bee keeps it cool.**

Jazz chuckled slightly as he heard the answering growl and the comm. Link was cut. Jazz knew Ratchet only really let the shortening of his name slide with Wheeljack, and maybe Ironhide when he was in a good mood, but it never stopped Jazz using it. Especially over comm. Links, where the medic wasn't near enough to throw a wrench at him for it. In which case he liked to add to the nickname just for fun. He knew 'Ratch-man' was one of Sparkplug's favourites, and one of the Medic's most despised.

"Alright 'Bee, we got the green light from our cheery CMO, let's find you something' ta do."

Bumblebee nodded, grinning, and slid of the berth to follow his superior officer. He Didn't usually get such a sense of relief at the thought of heading to the main ops room to find out what his shift was, but the prospect of something to keep his processor distracted was a welcome one at the moment.

"Well, this is where I leave ya Bumblebee. I gotta get some recharge in before mah next shift. Remember yer doctors orders, no straining yourself lookin' at those monitors for the next few cycles, or the Hatchet'll have my aft." Jazz said with a wink and pat on the minibot's shoulder plate as he sat down at the surveillance console.

"I'll try my best Jazz, but I can't promise anything." Bumblebee said with mock sigh of his vents and a grin.

Jazz chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder properly this time.

"Don't go doin' anything stupid Bumblebee, ya never know when Prowl might show up and catch ya out. He gets off his inventory duty in the next cycle, he'll prob'ly wanna come and see how you're doin'. I'll let him know you're up here."

"Oh! T-thanks Jazz, I'll be looking out for him." Bumblebee said with a grateful smile as the saboteur waved him a cheery goodbye and left.

As soon as he left, Bumblebee's smile turned into a weak look of trepidation.

He sat staring at the monitors, wondering what on earth he and Prowl were going to be able to talk about up here in the security office…

It wasn't as if it wasn't private, Red Alert was off fixing some of his surveillance cameras that the twins had been messing with, and most mechs stayed away from there in case Red wasn't out because they didn't want to be under his suspicious and scrutinizing gaze for long.

Bumblebee was one of the few mechs who honestly didn't mind Red's glares. He was a good mech off duty, and he could be positively hilarious if Inferno managed to get him overcharged. But Bumblebee being a spy, Red tended to be over-paranoid around him and whatever conversation they had was flippant and inconsequential. But again, Bumblebee didn't mind. At least if he felt like escaping talk of this never-ending war, he could always count on Red's random topics.

Monitor duty was exceptionally dull work, and after the first half a cycle, Bumblebee found it wasn't nearly as effective at distracting him as he'd hoped.

Whatever mechs walked through the screens before him were going about their normal duties… if you could call Ratchet throwing a wrench at Sideswipe as he passed Wheeljack's lab normal. He was helping the inventor install whatever he'd been working on in whatever invention it was the chief engineer had created (that would probably blow up later anyway ). Bumblebee noted Red in a camera a fair way from 'Jacks lab punching the air in victory. Bumblebee worked out the head of security had comm.'d Ratchet to hit Sideswipe if he saw him, and the Medic had just reported his success.

Sideswipe had stalked off down the hall cursing fluently.

Bluestreak was in the rec room, animatedly talking Hound's audios off, and Bumblebee would have gone to save him if Red had been there to stay on the monitors. As it was, the green mech was very good at putting on his patient face with Blue, who was of course oblivious to the somewhat exasperated slump of the tracker's shoulders.

In the weight room next door, Sunstreaker was having one of his silent weight lifting contests with the other mini bots. Gears didn't really seem that involved, but Brawn was going all out.

Bumblebee was happy to watch that screen for a while.

He liked to see Sunstreaker putting his immense strength to work. Even with the minimal movements of weight lifting on a bench, there was grace in his movements. The lights caught his freshly waxed paint and it gleamed gold. Bumblebee's shade of yellow was no where near as stunning as the melee warrior's, but he doubted he could ever pull off that bright sunray colour with the same effect that the Hardliner did. He remembered every time he saw it why Sunstreaker was one of the top names on his list of who he wouldn't mind fragging… but knowing the twin's distaste for minibots he highly doubted the possibility of that ever happening…

Although, watching him reminded Bumblebee of another mech with graceful movements, except the other was much more subtle…

No! he wasn't going to think about that here, he wasn't going to go anywhere near those thoughts until he'd worked out where he stood with Prowl. There was no point getting his hopes up.

Bumblebee concentrated on the screen again.

Sunstreaker got up and flexed his joints, seemingly satisfied that having lifted Five tonnes to Brawn's four made him the winner. He sauntered out in his usual, carelessly stunning manner. Brawn ignored him and waited until he was out of the room, before he went and got onto the bench the golden twin had just left, to try and lift the Five tonnes.

As Sunstreaker walked out past Bluestreak and Hound, he made no indication of acknowledgement whatsoever.

However, he did, without pause, reach out a black servo, grasp one of the Gunner's door wings, and continue walking towards the door with absolutely no change in his expression.

"-and then we… oh, Ah! Er, s-sun streaker…er… I guess I'll… talk to you later Hound!" The gunner's startled voice filtered quietly through the camera's audio as Bumblebee turned it up a little.

Bumblebee was not really a voyeur outside of his missions… but being a spy sort of made eavesdropping second nature. He'd always walk away or turn a deaf audio and blind optic if what he was witnessing undetected became too personal… and yet knowing exactly what was coming Bluestreak's way from the Golden Lamborghini, he found he couldn't just ignore the two as the twin dragged the grey and red Datsun through the hallways by his door wing without a word.

Bumblebee had seen this before, both on and off monitor duty. Sunstreaker usually sought out his usual casual interface partner after a hard workout.

The only mech they passed was Sideswipe. The yellow twin acknowledged his brother with a nod, and Sideswipe smirked in response.

"Oh, hey Sides! Bye Sides!" Bluestreak said weakly, still walking sort of sideways-backwards.

Sunstreaker eventually pulled them both into the corridor where the Twin's quarters were, but he couldn't seem to wait until they were in. He pushed Bluestreak against the wall and pressed his lips to the Gunner's, ravishing the twitching, quivering grey door-wings with his black servos.

Even when he was passionately molesting, Sunstreaker was nothing but graceful.

Bluestreak was no stranger to his treatment though, and quickly his steady servos flew to the black and gold audio crests on either side of the Lamborghini's helm.

Bumblebee muted the camera in that corridor before what he was sure was a very loud moan escaped Sunstreaker.

 _If only the paintjob was different_ Bumblebee thought, looking over Bluestreak with a sigh of his vents, watching the two entwining in the corridor before Sunstreaker finally dragged them into the warrior's shared quarters.

Bumblebee shuttered his optics in quick succession. _DID I SERIOUSLY JUST THINK THAT?_

Shaking himself mentally, Bumblebee checked his internal chronometer. In another quarter cycle, Prowl's shift would be over, and then Jazz had said he'd probably come up to see him.

Bumblebee's spark quivered. _What am I going to say? What is HE going to say?_

Bumblebee was no good at rehearsing conversations, so he decided to try and distract himself again.

He brought up the camera feed to the store-room in which Prowl was working.

The Black and White mech moved slower than usual, but other than that he made no sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened to him within the last few day cycles.

Bumblebee remembered again how he had super-imposed the black and white frame over Bluestreaks when he saw his impassioned encounter with Sunstreaker and shivered, heat coming into his faceplate. He was very glad no one else was there to witness his embarrassing reactions at the moment.

Bumblebee pointedly looked at all the empty camera feeds he could. It wasn't hard, most mechs were either on patrol, in their quarters, or at their work stations doing whatever it was they did best.

When Bumblebee finally checked the monitor in Prowl's work area again, he was startled to find it empty. Then he realised the Tactician had completed his shift (and likely the inventory, given he was prone to doing over-time just to finish jobs he'd started if he didn't get them done within the allotted timeframe).

Bumblebee physically jumped when he heard the door to the surveillance room whoosh open behind him.

He span around in his chair, but the mech that strode through it wasn't black and white, or even a Datsun.

"Fragging Sideswipe, one of these days I swear I'm going to USE some of the blackmail material I have against him, and THEN he'll be sorry he ever messed with my cameras… are you alright Bumblebee?"

Bumblebee cycled an almost relieved sigh through his vents.

"Yea… sorry Red, you just startled me. I saw you guys get Sides, that should stop him messing with them for a while." Bumblebee said, plastering on a smile and turning back to the screens before Red Alert could see the flush of embarrassed colour in his faceplate.

"Too right he's not going to, or I'll cover HIS optic lenses in red paint and see how HE likes it!"

Bumblebee continued to sit in an edgy silence with an oblivious Red Alert, searching the screens for any sign of Prowl heading his way. But it appeared the Tactician had simply disappeared. The only places he could be where there weren't any cameras to see him were his own quarters, someone else's, Wheeljack's fireproof lab (where he tested the more explodable of his inventions), the wash racks, or off the ark and away from it's perimeters.

Bumblebee highly doubted the last option. He also ruled out Wheeljack's other lab. He may have gone to visit Jazz in the Saboteur's quarters, but then Bumblebee thought Jazz would probably push Prowl to come and see him, and what was more Prowl probably wouldn't disturb Jazz since he would be recharging by now.

This left his own Quarters or the wash racks. It was a no CPU'er that private living areas were unmonitored, but the case had not always been so with the wash racks.

The thing was that steam always messed with the lenses, and the internal wiring perished quickly in the high humidity. Red Alert had pestered Wheeljack into designing waterproofing for the cameras, but it was little surprise that almost every mech that was tall enough had sabotaged the waterproof casings until Prowl had gotten fed up with Red Alert's complaints and simply refused to let him bother putting cameras in there.

It wasn't that mechs had embarrassment issues with washing like humans did. They washed in each other's company frequently… it was when some certain mechs wanted to use the casual time together in there that surveillance became a cog of contention… Bumblebee had lost count of the number of times he'd walked into the washroom only to turn straight on his stabilisers and leave until whatever couple was in there having a 'moment' was done and left.

Bumblebee went back to glancing at the rest of the monitors, but always kept an optic on the washroom doors and Prowl's quarters to see if he could catch a glimpse of the Tactician.

"Bumblebee, your shift finished nearly a quarter cycle ago." Red Alert suddenly piped up with some surprise.

"Oh… did it? Huh… I guess I lost track." Bumblebee muttered, giving the monitors one last sweep with his optics before getting up and stretching.

"Guess I'll see you later Red." Bumblebee waved him a distracted goodbye, the chief of security giving him a nod and one last curious, if not slightly suspicious look.

* * *

Prowl had been very sorry that he'd opened that data-file Red Alert had sent him. How could he have forgotten? _HOW_ could he not have thought of this?

Prowl shuttered his optics again, biting his lower lip component as he tried to suppress the unbidden images that wanted to occupy his meta.

He wished Bluestreak was there to drown out his audios so he didn't keep hearing the memories of the sounds on that vid-file.

He hadn't even watched the whole thing. Oh, _Primus_ if he had he wouldn't have been able to obey Ratchet's orders, even if he wanted to.

As it was, the moment he realised what it was he was watching and where it was going, he had shut the file down and stashed it away. But the damage had been done the moment he had seen the image of his lover in the very store-room he was now taking inventory in.

Prowl focused on his data pad, slowly and deliberately counting out ammunition stocks twice and ticking them off on his list.

 _What was he thinking, doing that in here?_ Prowl fumed, the heat rising in his faceplate as he failed to stop the images running through his CPU again.

But knowing his beautiful Porsche had sprawled himself across the crates directly in front of where he stood, Prowl could not stop the clear, vivid image of Jazz self-interfacing from springing to the fore of his meta.

Prowl's door-wings quivered as he remembered his name moaned into the empty room by the saboteur. He had stopped the vid-file right there… but Primus knew how he had hated to do so.

Prowl knew it would outright frag up the anti-viral software integrating into his systems if he allowed himself to view that footage and let it affect him.

And effect him it would…

He had completely forgotten, in the suddenness and unusualness of having to interface with Bumblebee, why it was that he hadn't actually done so with Jazz in so long.

Prowl knew his body's rhythms very well. He could generally work around them without a problem. But he had a curious affectation to his interfacing methods.

He would have to deliberately clear his schedule for several day cycles if he wanted to be intimate with Jazz… because once he interfaced, he would not stop feeling the desire to do so for at least an Orn or longer.

Which was no problem when he made it so he and Jazz had plenty of off-time together between shifts, but he hadn't even considered the possibility of an unprepared for interface with a bot who WASN'T Jazz…

Consequently, it had not crossed his processor that his usual Rhythms would apply…

Unfortunately, he had been quite wrong.

While the afterglow of his experience with Bumblebee had faded, the vid-file from Red Alert had kicked off his burning heat… and it had not gone away when he had forced himself to recharge for a few cycles.

It was only getting worse. Prowl couldn't even remember the last time he had been subjected to his own maddening desires without having arranged a means to relieve them.

He had been so close to jumping Jazz when he'd shown up to tell him Bumblebee was on monitor duty… but knew that he was in plain sight of Red Alert's surveillance camera.

Jazz had smirked at the camera in a knowing fashion from the doorway.

Prowl had raised an optic ridge at him to acknowledge the silent message.

 _Slag it all,_ Jazz had been well aware Red Alert would capture his little heated self-stimulation session… and somehow he knew of the security officer's running habit of sending Prowl his best cuts.

Prowl would have to ask Jazz later how he had found out about it… but right now, all he knew was that he wanted nothing more than to thank his lover for the exceptional token.

And he couldn't.

And it wasn't just because he was on duty.

Prowl cycled a long draught of air through his vents. Before he even thought of 'facing with Jazz he had to come clean about the incident with him and Bumblebee.

Oh, and that was another thing.

His smouldering desire was stretching beyond uncontrollable fantasies involving his Porsche lover… and he was finding visions of the yellow minibot invading his mind, usually involving his servos somewhere in that small frame, eliciting his name from those shining little silver lips…

Prowl shook himself mentally, richly cherry coloured faceplate turned quite deliberately away from the camera at his back. He shifted a few crates and counted a box he realised after a moment he had already counted.

Trying to concentrate against the warm tingling starting under his codpiece, Prowl counted a large box of missiles rather loudly in his head.

Prowl dreaded the end of that shift as much as he longed for it. He Didn't mind taking inventory, but he was growing desperate to relieve the restless, incessant burning in his spark. However, according to Jazz, Bumblebee was probably expecting him to go up and talk to him.

Shame flooded his processor… how could he even face Bumblebee? Surely the spy had worked out that he was yet to inform Jazz of their incident together… and what was more, he was probably unaware that much of his widespread surface circuit damage was Prowl's fault.

Even his guilt over causing Bumblebee injury without him even knowing did not stop the wave of heat that washed his frame, unbidden memories of the yellow mech squirming beneath him flashing across his CPU.

_I cannot go on like this… I need a clear processor if I'm going to face Bumblebee._

His logic chip seemed to confer with this line of thinking. But that did nothing to ease Prowl's discomfort with his decision, as he was all too aware that his logic chip always managed to side with whatever part of him was insanely craving a decent interface.

Prowl had a plan of action clear in his processor within the breem. As soon as his shift finished (he had completed the inventory a quarter cycle ago and already sent it to the main log) he slipped out of the storage room and along a carefully chosen path.

He new every one of Red Alerts cameras and their scope. He was one of the very few mechs on the Ark capable of completely avoiding detection when he wanted to.

It did not take him long to reach the wash racks.

He ascertained that no one else was in there before slipping into one of the cubicled showering stalls. There were only a few of these and they were only really big enough for one mech. They were merely there for those who had managed to get dirt lodged under their armour and had to remove parts of it to wash properly. While normal surface washes were an almost sociable affair, exposing ones' more intimate circuitry in public was not particularly desirable, and so there were a few covered stalls for more detailed cleaning requirements.

Prowl felt wrong… using the stalls when you only needed a surface cleaning was not against protocol, but all the same, Prowl wasn't exactly there for a quick surface wash. He felt a lot dirtier than he physically was though as he turned on the stream of hot water.

At first he let the water just run over his chassis, warming his plating, drowning out the burning within him. But after a few kliks the patter of the water against his door wings sent anticipative tingles through his frame, and suddenly the heat within him was even greater than that of the water streaming down his form.

With a sigh of his vents, Prowl tried to ignore his processor's nagging thoughts about how unlike him this was, and he un-subspaced the data-pad he had stashed away before he recharged.

All the data-pads he used were water-proof… but not because he was prone to having them anywhere near water, it was merely one of his many usually unnecessary precautions… it was coming in handy at the moment however.

Prowl activated the data-pad, setting the audio to feed directly to his comm. frequency, so no one who might enter would hear the device or what was being played on it.

Prowl's optics deepened in colour as he watched the vid-file play out, intent on witnessing the full content and utilising it for his needs.

Jazz was sprawled across the crates Prowl had just finished stocktaking… the Porsche let out a soft, satisfied hum as he traced his digits down his own chassis, stroking with feather light touches across the seams of his thighs before travelling up to finger the glass of his own headlights.

Prowl copied the motions in real time, gasping and muting his vocaliser against the moans that wanted to escape him. His door wings twitched hard as his white digits brushed the inside seam of his thigh.

His Optics never left the screen, but they widened with a shiver of pleasure as Jazz moaned his name to the empty room. _Primus_ it had sounded so close it was like the saboteur had been right behind him, moaning it into his helm.

Jazz had removed his codpiece by now and was stroking his interfacing components languidly, humming and mewling in delight at his own touch.

_He was doing all that KNOWING I would see… he's teasing me on purpose, that little-_

Prowl gasped as Jazz suddenly pressed two of his own digits into his slightly dripping port entrance, whimpering out Prowl's name as he did so.

Prowl was exceptionally glad he had already muted his vocaliser as he copied Jazz's motions.

He matched the pumping of his own fingers in time with the Porsche's on screen.

Prowl bit his lip hard, his whole frame vibrating with sweet sensations in response to his self-stimulation.

Jazz was writhing on screen, Prowl could even hear his cooling fans whirring away faintly on the audio feed. He wished so desperately to have that white chassis beneath his fingers… to have those black digits in him rather than just his own.

Prowl let out a silent moan of longing as Jazz popped out his own interfacing cable and stroked it leisurely.

Slag the fingers, Prowl wanted THAT inside him at the moment…

The fact that he couldn't have it made him grit his dental plates as a wave of fresh heat surged through him, setting his sensors on edge, making his own ministrations feel twice as good.

Prowl un-recessed his interfacing cable, not realising that as he ran his servo slowly over the sheathing he was washing away the dried remnants of Bumblebee's lubricant from himself. He hadn't washed since the incident after all. He only noticed when he felt the slick substance coating him as the water made it slimy again.

Prowl stopped stroking himself and simply watched the rest of the data-file. He was going to want both servos free if he was going to do this properly.

His optics burned a deep blue as he witnessed his lonely lover stroke his own cable while pumping into that port now streaming with lubricant.

Prowl shivered, wishing he could have helped Jazz, his glossa running along the back of his denta slowly as he thought of how good it would feel when he finally got to slip the appendage into that sweet port again, tasting it, tasting Jazz…

Jazz moaned and gasped out his lover's name over and over, each time it made the Datsun shiver and whine silently with desperate need.

Eventually, Jazz had prepared himself, and slowly he slid his own extended cable into the port situated beneath it. This was an exceptionally intense method of self-interfacing, and one which only well seasoned mechs dared employ in such a vulnerable placement such as a storage room.

A mech could easily offline themselves overloading with a self-charge feedback. It was best done in secure privacy, but obviously Jazz was more interested in entertaining his 'audience' than avoiding being found offline in an exceptionally embarrassing position.

Prowl's optics flickered between the strangely arousing sight of Jazz's cable buried within his own port and the Saboteurs faceplate, which seemed overwhelmed with bliss. His mouth was agape and he let out little sighs and grunts as he pulsed his own magnetic field, the direct feed-back loop building an exceptionally strong charge within him.

The black servos suddenly buried themselves into the joints between his legs and hips, and after a few more gasps and wild bucks, Jazz moaned out Prowl's name long and loud as overload hit him.

Prowl felt his processor reeling with a heady sensation as he witnessed his lover's overload.

He realised his knee joints felt exceptionally weak. As Jazz rode out the overload expertly, milking it for all it was worth, he collapsed back against the crates he had been arching on top of. His vents cycled furiously and he grinned in a deviously satisfied way.

The video cut out, and Prowl re-subspaced the data-pad.

He was practically quivering with anticipation. It was his turn now.

One of his idle servos drifted down his chassis and began to stroke his still extended interface cable.

The other returned to his port and he slid three digits in, stretching himself and gasping.

Quite out of nowhere, he imagined that it was two different sets of black servos touching him, rather than his own.

_Two…_

Prowl offlined his optics and raised his faceplate into the stream of water still tumbling down his plating.

The fantasy did not stop. He stroked his cable with only two digits, as if to make it easier to imagine the smaller servos stroking him gently…

While the three fingers stretching him were thrust a little more roughly, playfully trying to elicit loud noises from him, a game he was used to his lover playing with him.

_I'm not, am I?… together… both of them, together… oooh Primus…_

Prowl moaned internally, both in confusion and delight.

The thought made a shiver of fear pass through him… but also a stronger shiver of excitement.

Just the _idea_ of both the objects of his desire coming together in that way…

Prowl's cooling fans whirred loudly as he bucked against his own roughly thrusting digits.

The touch on his cable remained light to maintain his own little illusion.

Jazz might not accept Prowl's new feelings…

Bumblebee might not even reciprocate now he was cured and had had time to think over the event…

And yet, Prowl's processor refused to let the little fantasy go.

And Pit it felt twice as good to imagine the touches were those of the other two mechs.

Prowl wasn't sure he could take the same risk as Jazz and not go offline… so he merely quickened his pace on his cable and in his port. He bent forwards, panting silently, and angled his door-wings so the jet of water pounded into the hinges and joints of the appendages on his back.

He jerked with the sharp waves of pleasure that stabbed through his chassis from various directions.

He grit his denta and offlined his optics again, pressing his chevron against the tiled wall before simulating himself as hard as he could both on his cable and in his port (which was streaming lubricant into the water running down his widely spread legs ).

As overload hit, his mouth gaped in a silent cry of ecstasy, servos jerking against his own hardware frantically as he pressed his helm into the wall.

As the overload gradually passed and the red warnings in his H.U.D slowly disappeared one after the other as his systems re-set, Prowl straightened slightly and slumped against the wall under the stream of water.

He sighed through his vents as his cooling fans continued to try and stabilise his core temperature.

He had been correct. The overload had cleared his CPU of the nagging desire… for now, at least.

Onlining his vocal unit again, he gave a soft groan. Even with his Processor clear and free to review his situation critically… the prospect was worryingly difficult.


	4. Chapter 4

By the end of the first orn, Bumblebee was absolutely positive.

Prowl was avoiding him.

He had several theories why, but all were rather inconsequential, because whatever the case was, it didn't stop him feeling depressed.

More depressed than he could EVER remember feeling.

He was finally back on normal duties, and his self-repairs had brought his systems back up to top working order, something Ratchet was very pleased about. It was about the only thing he was pleased about though.

Within the last orn, Ratchet had been trying harder than Bumblebee had to corner the Chief Tactician, but neither of them were much of a match. When Prowl wanted to disappear, there were VERY few mechs that could get a hold of him. And neither the CMO or the small spy were one of those few bots.

Ratchet was frankly amazed that the 2IC could hide for so long while spending most of his shift time on the ship. True, the Ark was a very large ship, but not THAT large.

And what was more, Prowl didn't WANT to be hiding from anyone. Not a megacycle passed that he didn't wonder why he couldn't seem to just face Jazz, or Bumblebee… and he knew Ratchet wouldn't stop watching him like a hawk until he did.

That was why the CMO sent death-glares his way every single time they were in the same room… but Prowl was clever enough to make sure they were only ever in the same room with others present. Prowl really didn't need Ratchet giving him a piece of his processor for not having addressed the issue of the incident that occurred during their last battle with the Decepticons (or more accurately AFTER the battle ) with either his lover or the minibot involved. Prowl was giving himself a hard enough time, he couldn't remember ever feeling more horribly guilty in his entire life-stream.

He couldn't even look Bumblebee in the optics if he saw him… which was generally why he avoided the yellow beetle, because Bumblebee didn't deserve the awkwardness he knew he was causing.

 _For a tactician_ he thought sourly, _I_ _'_ _m pretty slagging tactless at relationships._

But if one thing was closer to galvanising him into action, it was the fact that his burning desire to interface had not, to his slight dismay, died down in the whole orn… and he hadn't done anything about it since he had first viewed that vid-file of Jazz after his first shift back on duty.

Bumblebee reported for his next patrol shift in his usual gloomy mood.

His mood had not gone unnoticed by most of his friends, but he was brushing it off as lingering after-effects of the virus, and no one questioned him because it had come so close to destroying their friend as they knew him that no-one doubted it would be a little traumatising at least to come that close to irreparable processor damage.

Bumblebee consoled himself that at least he had a whole 3 cycle patrol with Bluestreak to take his mind off things… the grey and red Datsun was very good at drowning out one's troubles with endless inane chatter.

But when Bumblebee arrived at the entrance to the Ark and dragged his optics up off the floor, he did a double take.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out, so surprised he didn't even greet the other mech.

The golden Warrior, who had been standing looking out at the expanse of desert and mountains with cool disdain, turned languid, mocking optics on the minibot and answered.

"I'm doing Bluestreak's shift."

"Oh… what happened to him?" Bumblebee asked curiously, relaxing a little, not realising he had automatically tensed at the sight of the Toughliner.

Sunstreaker replied with a satisfied looking smirk and his optics went slightly more azure. " _I_ happened to him." he almost purred.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate heat slightly as memories of his monitor duty surfaced. "What, again?" Bumblebee said, and then realised he had voiced it rather than thought it. "Never mind." He mumbled as Sunstreaker gave him a rather surprised look. "Let's get moving." Bumblebee said as he changed to vehicle mode before Sunstreaker could probe for answers about what Bumblebee had just let slip.

The two trundled off down the slope that led up to the large orange ship wedged into the base of an inactive volcano.

Well, Bumblebee trundled, but he knew Sunstreaker NEVER did anything as ungainly as _trundle_ , even over the rough desert terrain. What he did was more… gliding aggressively. The Lamborghini's engine roared as Sunstreaker's superior suspension made it seem like he was driving over freshly lain tarmac. Bumblebee felt every stone and dip beneath his tires, but didn't really care about the slightly jarring ride… he was never as pre-occupied with how he appeared to move as Sunstreaker. However, the golden toughliner was quickly pulling ahead and away.

 **So what did you mean** **'** _ **again**_ _ **'**_ **spybot? I didn** **'** **t think you were such a voyeur**. Sunstreaker said coolly over Bumblebee's comm. Link.

Bumblebee cringed a little internally.

**Sorry, I just saw you drag him off while I was on monitor duty the other joor. And I AM a spybot** **…** **voyeurism is kinda in the job description.**

Sunstreaker slowed down slightly to let him catch up, apparently satisfied that his answer was explanation enough.

**Yea, can** **'** **t be that bad a job then. I bet you** **'** **ve probably got as much blackmail info in that little processor of yours as Red** **'** **s got on all those data chips of his.**

**Wouldn't you like to know.** Bumblebee replied playfully. To anyone else, this sort of talk from Sunstreaker would be intimidating and awkward, but having known the golden Twin for so long, Bumblebee recognised that he was on the end of Sunstreakers good mood. And he would make the most of it while it lasted… Sunstreaker never _ended_ a patrol shift in a good mood unless he'd gotten to slag some Decepticons somewhere along the way.

The two continued on towards the road in silence. Sunstreaker seemed to be thinking on Bumblebee's dodging statement. He didn't say anything though until they turned onto a sealed highway and started along the North-Eastern route they were meant to be patrolling.

**So, got anything particularly juicy on anyone?**

Bumblebee considered for a moment, flashing his indicator and falling in behind the Lamborghini as he scanned vaguely for Decepticon signals.

 **Not off the top of my processor… and I'm not really the gossiping type Sunstreaker, that's another part of my job description.** Bumblebee's spark gave a little stutter as an old conversation came to mind… **I'm not the type to kiss and tell, if you get my drift.**

The toughline sniggered over their comm. Link.

**You're not the type to kiss at all, as far as I'v seen.**

That one stung Bumblebee more than he cared to admit.

His silence indicated to the golden twin that he'd hit a nerve, and as much as Sunstreaker liked to taunt minibots for whatever reason he could find, he didn't have the spark to push Bumblebee any further… he was about the only _likeable_ one of those mini-slaggers, but apparently not likable enough for anyone to make advances…

Although, he had saved Prowl during their last battle, and Sunstreaker had to be one of the few mechs not grateful for this. Pit knew he was tired of the tactician throwing him in the brig along with his twin for things that he himself had had no part in. Although Sunstreaker was more slagged off at Sideswipe for these incidents than he was with Prowl, but it was easier to direct his hate towards a mech he didn't share a spark-bond with. Less complicated anyway.

Perhaps this WAS a nerve worth pushing, even if he didn't really care about the hopeless state of the yellow mech's love life.

**So how long HAS it been for you?**

Bumblebee, who had been absently admiring the Lamborghini's aft, was brought sharply back to reality.

**Oh you're not going to push for THAT are you? Why do you even care?**

Bumblebee said, sounding exasperated but feeling nervous more than anything.

He hadn't expected anyone to ask him that sort of question (no mechs but the twins really would unless influenced by high grade). Consequently he hadn't really thought up an answer for such a situation. He wasn't likely to spill the beans about getting fragged by Prowl only joors ago, certainly NOT to either of the Lambo Twins… Pit only knew what they would do with such information.

**Well, if I HAD to guess, I'd say its been megacycles at the very least. Personally I don't know how any bot could go more than that before they went crazy. Although… you aren't exactly acting sane if you take hits for officers and become inexplicably pouty for no apparent reason.**

Bumblebee's engine gave a small rev that told the Toughline he was getting on the beetle's nerve diodes. He smirked to himself.

 **I could argue throwing yourself on airborne seekers is pretty insane.** Bumblebee replied coolly.

 **My prolificacy isn't in question here.** Came Sunstreaker's blocking reply.

 **I am** _ **not**_ **pouty.** Bumblebee retorted, but his tone didn't help.

Sunstreaker's engine snorted at the sheer contradictory nature of that last statement.

**Can't deny it was nuts to jump in front of that whopping great gun to save Prowl last orn though.**

**I refer to my previous statement about jet judo.** Bumblebee replied shortly.

**Yes, but I'm a toughliner, that's in MY job description… and if it isn't, it should be. Wow, if you're fighting answering this hard, it must have been a pretty fragging long time…**

Bumblebee clamed up, ignoring the Golden aft drifting ahead of him and concentrating on his signal sweeps.

… **Maybe I should** **tell Bluestreak you secretly have a crush on him. I'm sure he'd take me seriously.**

**Sunstreaker!**

**If you'd just tell me, I wouldn't have to do that to you, I mean he's fun, but…**

**Sunstreaker will you just check your scanner, there's Decepticons! Eight Kliks North-West of us…**

Bumblebee was almost glad for the appearance of Decepticon signals on his scanners… he didn't like to think of the implications of Sunstreaker carrying out his threat. Bumblebee was afraid he might actually take him up on the offer to get Bluestreak interested, but he'd much rather have the attentions of another Datsun…

Bumblebee followed the Lamborghini as it swerved off the highway and down a side-road in the direction he realised his scanner was now indicating there were Decepticon signals.

As they drew within a klik of the location, they both transformed and approached behind a large outcrop of boulders.

Both mechs drew their rifles, and cautiously peeked their heads up just far enough to see over the edge of their rocky outcrop.

Despite the fact they had reached the Highway, they were not particularly far from the Ark. It was no surprise to either of them that the small Decepticon duo bellow them was heading in the direction the two Autobots had just come from. And they were on foot because these two didn't have vehicle modes to travel in… but that didn't make the two easily recogniseable cassetticons any less dangerous.

The cassette brothers hadn't noticed either Bumblebee or Sunstreaker, either not concentrating on sweeping their scanners or too cocky to care if they were found.

Their conversation floated over to the two Autobots, who watched them saunter along under their rocky vantage point (the land beneath the boulders dipped away and down onto the desert plateau, so they were in fact looking down on the 'cons walking below).

"…think you DID hit him though?" Frenzy was asking his brother with a sneer.

Rumble frowned, not looking at the other. "Does it matter? For the record, NO, I think that stupid little yellow slagger got in the way, but I don't even think either of them were offlined." He said, truly scowling now.

"How do you know?" Frenzy asked breezily, obviously not at all concerned with the incident and apparently enjoying their stroll to the Autobot base.

"Well, for starters, if we'd deactivated EITHER of those bots, Prime and his lot would probably already be beating down our door looking to spill some serious con-fluid. For another, there was ALWAYS that problem with that virus, there's a REASON we stopped using it stellar-cycles ago. Starscream SAID if an Autobot ever got hit with it and they weren't kept away from medics or comrades, they always managed to survive somehow." Rumble explained, obviously irritated that Starscream had probably been right for once.

"How the slag does that work?" Frenzy said incredulously, as if unwilling to believe the mere possibility that the chief seeker could be right about anything.

Rumble gave a jerky shrug, scowl deepening.

"Starscream seemed to find it _funny_ , but Megatron certainly didn't. That's why we're gonna check, to see if that pit fragging 2IC made it, and even if the boss is about 90% sure he did anyway, I'm not really looking forward to confirming it just to frag him off more."

Frenzy would have sniggered at his brother's misfortune if he wasn't aware that, being out here with him on this intelligence gathering mission, he too would be on the end of Megatron's bad mood when they got back with bad news.

"What if you DID get that minibot?" he questioned.

Rumble seemed to consider, going over the battle as he had seen it.

"Well, there's a 82.4% chance I did, but then the tactician pulled him back into the caves, so I sealed them in to give the virus time to work. Slagged if I know how the Tactician could've saved him though. He might be a pain in the aft with his battle strategies, but he's no medic as far as I'v seen."

"Didn't you say that Starscream mentioned if they were around any other Autobot they didn't offline?" Frenzy said, looking confused.

Rumble mirrored his expression, but with a more annoyed tinge. "Yea. And he would explain why. He pretended like he didn't now, but I reckon he's just keeping the joke to himself."

Frenzy shrugged with a sneer. "Yea, but this is Starscream, he's always like that. He probably _doesn't_ know but thinks its funny to make you think he does and won't tell. Anyway, even if they weren't offlined, I bet it hurt like the seventh smelter… probably would've been fun to watch that minibot squir- OOF!"

"WHAT THE?" Rumble exclaimed, but it was all he had time to say.

Frenzy was cut off by a Yellow Blur sailing past, knocking him down, and leaping upon Rumble before either of the cassettes quite knew what was going on.

Sunstreaker couldn't quite believe his optics.

He rebooted them a few times, but the scene didn't change.

He hadn't even SEEN Bumblebee move, let alone heard him… yet suddenly there he was, knocking Frenzy to the ground before leaping on Rumble, rifle still in servo but pretty much forgotten.

It took Sunstreaker another moment still to actually process the fact that Bumblebee… _Bumblebee,_ the most unassuming of the minibots, who generally never went servo-to-servo without first being attacked, had just charged arguably the two deadliest of Soundwave's creations, and was proceeding to _beat the slag out of them._

Rumble really didn't CARE who was smashing their servos into his faceplate, but despite the blur of yellow, he was sure it wasn't the scarier of the Autobot twins, because he'd probably be offline by now if it was… whoever they were they were only slightly bigger than him anyway (as opposed to a LOT bigger, which the twins were).

Bumblebee wasn't quite sure where all the anger had come from. Sunstreaker had already wound him up, sure, and he hadn't been afraid of the two cassettes spilling anything about the details of the virus around Sunstreaker because it was likely he wouldn't glean anything from it or care. He would have liked to tell himself it wasn't revenge for the pain Rumble had caused hitting him with that virus (even if he hadn't been Rumble's original target) but he knew a very small part of it was payback…

No, Bumblebee knew what it was… Rumble and Frenzy were merely convenient outlets for his utter frustration that this whole situation had caused.

 _You brought about that slagging interface!_ He thought as he hit Rumble in the faceplate as hard as he could, cracking the red visor.

_And now look where it's got me! Prowl doesn't want to KNOW me and you don't even know how that makes me feel and it's your fragging FAULT!_

Unfortunately, while Bumblebee's sudden and violent whirlwind attack had afforded him the element of surprise, the two cassettes were now gathering their processing power again and getting ready to counter their assailant.

Bumblebee was knocked sideways off Rumble by a punch from Frenzy. The spy rolled onto his stabilising servos and shot up, facing them both defiantly before throwing himself soundlessly at Frenzy, rifle butt driven by both hands, connecting with the other mech's faceplate.

Unfortunately, this had given Rumble the opportunity to get up. Without a second thought Rumble transformed his arms to pile-drivers and went for the yellow beetle's back, ready to slam him to the ground and pummel his chassis to scrap.

But Bumblebee, his fury not clouding his senses but rather heightening them, heard his approach and grabbed Frenzy, spinning them both around at the last second so that Rumble's pile-drivers ended up smacking right into his own brother.

"OW! YOU SLAGGING GLITCH-HEAD!" Frenzy yelled at his brother, who jumped back, horrified and furious that the Autobot had turned his attack against him.

Bumblebee threw Frenzy to the side and remembered that the thing still clutched in his servos was actually a rifle. Taking quick aim, he shot at Rumble's leg struts, looking to immobilise him before he could attack with his pile-drivers again.

Rumble danced out of the way.

Bumblebee noticed a movement out of the corner of his sensors, but as he turned to shoot at Frenzy (who was up again and looking livid, about to pounce him), another blur joined the fray. Except this blur was gold, and had much less trouble slamming Frenzy to the ground and keeping him there than Bumblebee had.

Bumblebee was almost disappointed that he had backup. He wanted to give the two cassettes a piece of his processor, but it looked like he'd just have to settle for Rumble.

"Hey, I know you! You got in the way of my shot!" Rumble suddenly scowled dangerously, his cracked visor flaring red.

Bumblebee's response was to raise his rifle again, but Rumble growled and aimed his pile drivers at the ground.

The dry earth responded immediately, cracking and splitting along the already established weak points in the arid desert soil. Bumblebee's aim was lost as the ground beneath his stabilisers shook violently, but as a gaping chasm began to open up, it was not doing so beneath him as it had many times before. It ran straight under Sunstreaker and Frenzy.

Both Mechs fell with a cry of shock as the earth beneath them disappeared. Sunstreaker flailed and caught a jutting rock in the wall of the ever deepening crack, but Frenzy had managed to grab the edge of the hole and could be heard spouting as many foul profanities as he could think of while trying to scramble back up onto level ground.

Rumble stopped when he realised he had nearly accidentally buried his brother, but he sneered anyway. Until a round of laser fire came his way again and clipped him In the shoulder and knee joints.

He turned his attention back to the minibot. Bumblebee was not content with merely shooting the cassetticons into submission… he still had some anger to work out, so he dove towards Rumble again. But something else hit him before he could reach his target.

Suddenly, he found himself flat on his back with Frenzy above him. The leering Decepticon changed his own arms into pile-drivers… Bumblebee had forgotten they could BOTH do that, Frenzy hardly ever bothered…

Bumblebee was forcefully reminded as Frenzy smashed the Pile-driver down on his right servo.

Bumblebee cried out as there was a loud crack of metal crushing metal, and his rifle left his grasp. He knew the motion relays had just been destroyed. But Frenzy didn't stop. He moved up the minibot's right arm and hit it again, very satisfied with the sickening sounds of mangled metal beneath his hydraulic powered weapons.

The spy was not prone to loosing his wits to pain however, and the urge to hit something merely increased. A surge of pure anger flooded his processor and relays and he gathered his legs beneath him before kicking up at Frenzy's back.

He hit the injuries made by Rumble's own pile-drivers and Frenzy fell forwards off him with a shout.

Not wasting time, Bumblebee rolled to his feet and drove his left and still functioning servo into the cracked plating of Frenzy's back, grabbing as many wires as he could find and pulling hard.

The cassetticon yelled and writhed, unable to reach around behind him and stop the minibot with his arms still in pile-driver mode, and what was more the spy had just broken the relays required to change them back.

Bumblebee noticed Rumble coming at him again, looking truly furious now.

The yellow beetle shoved Frenzy into his brother and dove for his rifle again, but when he picked it up, he didn't aim for Rumble.

Rumble had been knocked back, but he and Frenzy were still standing. Frenzy's sparking, broken up back-plating was still facing Bumblebee, so he took a well aimed shot and hit the cassetticon where he knew it would hurt most.

Frenzy went down, falling into involuntary stasis lock with the intensity of the pain that the laser shot caused penetrating deep into his circuits.

Rumble started at Bumblebee spouting a tirade as he went.

"You fragging little mother-board slagger! I'm going to rip your spark out through your optics for that, you'll wish that virus had hit you and offlined you- AGH!"

Bumblebee had taken his rifle by the muzzle and thrown it hard at Rumble with a scowl. It bounced off the cassetticons' already damaged visor and the resounding tinkle of glass told him he'd cracked both of Rumble's optics.

Rumble stumbled back in shock, darkness enveloping him as both optics were shattered by… had that Autobot just _thrown_ a perfectly functional _rifle_ at his face?

Rumble was starting to realise that the Autobot attacking him was running on more than just the usual righteousness… he had a grudge. He didn't WANT to shoot Rumble, he wanted to hurt him with his bare servos. It occurred to Rumble that, quite possibly, he HAD hit this minibot during that last battle and the virus may well have screwed up his processor… it was about the only explanation he could find for the yellow beetle's behaviour. He didn't know the spy very well, but he was aware he was the least confrontational of all the minibots, so this whole scenario didn't really make much sense otherwise.

Unable to see, it wasn't hard for Bumblebee to pounce Rumble, and while the cassette flailed blindly, trying to hone his other sensors in on the Autobot before he was bested, Bumblebee cunningly dug the small digits of his left servo under the cassette's tightly fitted armour (he had to give Soundwave credit, there weren't many other mechs with armour THAT precisely tooled and fitted, even Wheeljack's well made creations weren't made with that level of tail-pipe-retentive detailing), and searched for as many motion relays as he could, pulling them loose and disconnecting them where he could.

He gave a hiss of static as Rumble closed his one-retransformed hand (the other was now stuck as a pile-driver as Bumblebee had severed that relay with his earlier laser fire) over the mangled, crushed remains of Bumblebee's right arm as it pressed uselessly against the cassetticon in an effort to keep him down.

But even as Rumble dug his digits in and twisted and yelled and squirmed, Bumblebee managed to cut power to the Decepticon's legs and pile-driver arm.

As Rumble twisted the minibot's crushed limb (now leaking energon rather badly), Bumblebee had decided he'd had enough.

Sunstreaker clambered his way out of the chasm in time to see Bumblebee smash his left fist into Rumble's face until the Decepticon offlined.

Once he did, Bumblebee got up and gave the bot a good kick before stalking off a small way and looking around at the carnage.

Satisfied that the cassette brothers were well off-lined, Bumblebee tried to calm his frantically cycling cooling fans and seemed to remember he was not alone.

When he looked around and spotted Sunstreaker, he felt his faceplate flush slightly. The golden twin was standing there with his jaw slack, looking more ungainly than Bumblebee had ever remembered seeing him.

Sunstreaker walked over and inspected Bumblebee's work with absolute shock painting his features.

Frenzy lay face down with his back messed up and circuits still sparking where a laser shot had been well placed right between his shoulder-struts.

Rumble was on his back, visor totally smashed, along with his optics, and it seemed the spy had taken out many of his motion relays… Sunstreaker recognised the stiff angle of his limbs and the one still transformed arm.

"…WHAT THE SLAG WAS ALL THIS ABOUT?" Sunstreaker demanded, but he sounded awed more than anything else… even a little… _impressed_.

The words seemed to bring Bumblebee back to his senses. He felt his processor grow fuzzy as the haze of anger drained completely.

He shuttered his optics once or twice to refresh his sensors and normalise his systems again.

"Hey… that's pretty nasty, doesn't that hurt?" Sunstreaker mumbled, coming over to him and kneeling down to look at his arm.

Bumblebee looked down at it and winced as he lifted it for their mutual inspection. It had not actually bothered him at all until Sunstreaker brought his attention to it, but as soon as he did, a very strong pain signal issued from the smashed armour and crushed relays. Or more likely, his CPU stopped blocking the signals now his emotionally driven attack protocols had switched off.

He could see quite a bit of energon had seeped from it, but knew that his self repairs were already stemming the loss and re-directing the flows away from the limb. It still seeped glowing pink liquid in a slightly tank-churning manner.

"Seriously, talk to me, you still with me?" Sunstreaker said bluntly, frowning into the minibot's line of sight.

Bumblebee shook his helm and properly came back to the real world.

"Yea, yea, I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be?"

Sunstreaker gave him an incredulous look.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate heat slightly again. _He's pretty good to look at close up… why the pit am I thinking about that NOW?_

"Ummm, you just took out two cassetticons pretty much on your own… and you usually have trouble just seeing Ravage off without help. I don't know if that makes you fine, or whether that virus totally fried your CPU… jumping these two without saying anything is about as sane as jumping on an airborne seeker. Well… for you, anyway. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Sunstreaker's tone sounded more amused than accusatory.

Bumblebee turned away with a sigh through his now somewhat calmed ventilations.

"I uh… guess I was more fragged off with Rumble for that virus shot than I thought…" he said with a small, nervous laugh.

There was a clang behind him as Sunstreaker gave Rumble's offline body a good kick.

"I should tick you off more often before battles, if this is what you can do when you're annoyed with a mech." he sniggered.

"Please don't." Bumblebee muttered worriedly, not sure exactly how serious Sunstreaker was about that idea.

Bumblebee was starting to feel sick with himself. He flexed the digits of his left servo, hearing the dented metal scrape the joints under his knuckles. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thrown the first punch… the very thought that he had just done something so vicious when essentially unprovoked made his tank churn.

"Let's get back to the Ark and report." Bumblebee muttered, suddenly feeling rather ashamed of himself for letting his anger get the better of him and taking it out on others… even if they were Decepticons. How was he going to even _explain_ this to anyone? What kind of report was he going to have to file to Prowl?

The thought of Prowl finding out only deepened his shame. He didn't even want to think about the tactician, let alone face him now.

"I suppose we'll be leaving these two… can you even transform with your arm like that?" Sunstreaker asked pointedly.

Bumblebee frowned slightly before sighing through his vents. "I might, but I'd probably only damage it more, and I don't think Ratchet would be too pleased… you don't mind walking do you?" Bumblebee said apologetically.

Sunstreaker gave a staticy snort. "The number of times I'v had to walk back dragging 'Sides because he did something stupid and couldn't transform, I probably know the way better than you do. Don't expect me to carry you though." he said coolly.

"I'll contact the Ark on the way to tell them what's going on. They'll probably have to send out an extra shift to cover the route we aren't on now." Bumblebee said, feeling a pang of guilt… yet another reason he shouldn't have been so rash and ready to throw himself at the cassettes.

Sunstreaker nodded (and was that a curious expression he was wearing?) and they headed off in the direction the two Decepticons had been taking only about a Breem earlier.

Bumblebee opened a comm. Link to the command centre, putting it on speaker… he had an idea of how to excuse himself from awkward explanations… he just hoped Sunstreaker would play along.

**Bumblebee to Ark command, please respond.**

**Receiving you Bumblebee, this is Hound. What's up?**

**Hey Hound. Sunstreaker and I are heading back to the Ark. We just had a run in with Rumble and Frenzy, they were on an Intel mission to the Ark when we intercepted their signals.**

**Sounds like you're both OK, were they much trouble?**

**Well… there was a confrontation. Sunstreaker took them both out,** The golden twin's head whipped around to stare at him, but Bumblebee ignored his piercing azure gaze… **but my right arm has been immobilised and I don't fancy my luck trying to transform on it, so we're headed back to base on foot.**

**Oh, right. You aren't detaining the cassettes and bringing them in?**

**No, not much point. They were coming to gather Intel from us, which means they probably don't know anything we want to know, and those two are more pain to keep than they are to leave.** Bumblebee said truthfully.

**Fair enough. I'll let Ratchet know your situation so you can report straight to the med-bay. I'll send out two other bots to cover the rest of your route.**

**Thanks Hound. We'll be there in about half a cycle.**

Hound gave his acknowledgment and cut the comm. Link.

Bumblebee gave Sunstreaker a nervous sideways glance, but the twin was no longer gazing at him with curious amazement. He was looking ahead with a thoughtful frown on his handsome features.

Bumblebee watched his feet as they continued on in silence.

The more he thought about the incident, the worse he felt.

How much more senseless could he get? He had acted like a youngling, all rash action without considered processing,

What would Prowl think if he found out? He already seemed ashamed to be seen around him. He'd probably worked out the logical implications of being seen anywhere near him… that or he'd just been nice so as not to hurt Bumblebee's feelings when he had to save his spark… he'd probably get angry if he found out Bumblebee had done something as reckless and stupid as attack the cassette brothers. He'd think he was touched in the processor… heck he'd probably take him off active duty. Bumblebee only prayed Sunstreaker kept his silence and accepted the credit for taking out the cassetticons, or he was sure there would only be trouble for him.

The longer they walked, the more Bumblebee's thoughts trailed into depressive circles, wondering over and over why he even thought Prowl might like him that way in the first place. Bumblebee was so lost in his own lines of code he didn't notice Sunstreaker had been watching his faceplate for at least a whole breem.

"Hey, about what I said earlier…"

Bumblebee was startled out of his reverie by the golden twins' voice.

"… you know I was just messing with your processor right?"

Bumblebee shuttered his optics once or twice as he tried to ascertain what exactly Sunstreaker was referring to, until the look of pity seemed to flash across the warrior's features and he understood.

"Oh… yea, of course." Bumblebee forced out a small laugh with his falsely light tone. But for once his smile felt wholly unnatural, as if he'd rather scowl and tell Sunstreaker where he could shove that kind of apology, but even the mere idea of doing so made him feel awful. That sort of thing just wasn't in his programming, even if he knew Sunstreaker had deliberately been pushing his buttons at the time.

He knew it only made him feel more miserable because it had a ring of truth to it.

A rather pathetic truth at that, he thought. Which was why the handsome Lamborghini was looking at him like he felt sorry for him. But he kept the fake smile plastered on until Sunstreaker looked away again.

It wasn't long until they reached the Ark. Sunstreaker had fallen into his thoughtful frown expression again, and unable to keep up the false light-hearted air, Bumblebee took straight off towards the Med-bay once they were in the entrance hallway.

Sunstreaker didn't seem to even realise Bumblebee was taking off without even giving any kind of farewell gesture, but he was being more perceptive of the minibot's odd mood than Bumblebee knew.

* * *

"Tell me again how in the PIT you got your arm so mangled?" Ratchet grumbled as he pried crumpled armour from crushed wires and cracked circuitry.

Ratchet had turned off the pain receptors to Bumblebee's arm, but he still winced from the irksome sensations he was still able to feel.

"Well, Rumble was going to attack Sunstreaker from behind, and I jumped on him. But he managed to flip me, and then he did that…"

"And where was your rifle in all this? You coulda just shot that fragger before he got to Sunstreaker." Ratchet said calmly but with an air of suspicion.

Bumblebee shook his helm, his lie coming easily. "At the angle I was at, I could have missed and hit Sunstreaker. I was going to shoot him point blank, but that's when he pile-drivered my arm and, well, it's a bit hard to hold a rifle when you can't move your servo." Bumblebee said almost apologetically.

Ratchet grunted in response, apparently unable to find anymore holes in Bumblebee's story to pick at.

They sat in silence for some time, Bumblebee watching as his arm was slowly re-wired, resoldered and welded where necessary by the deftly skilled red servos.

"I take it Prowl STILL hasn't talked to you yet?"

Bumblebee was startled from his silent musing for a second time that cycle by the sudden question. It was becoming something of a habit for others (especially Ratchet it seemed) to do this to him recently.

Bumblebee looked up into the deep blue optics under the black chevron. Ratchet's expression was unreadable.

Bumblebee sighed through his vents and looked away. "No. How did you know?"

"Because I figured you wouldn't be moping so much and he wouldn't be hiding if he had. Which means he probably hasn't told Jazz either… I get the feeling that's what's holding him up. If I could get my servos on him I'd lock the three of you in a room to sort it out, but he's a slippery slagger when he wants to be."

Bumblebee merely made a noise somewhere between a hum and a grumble, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Ratchet.

Sensing Bumblebee's raw discomfort with the subject, Ratchet decided now was not the time to push it.

* * *

Cycles later, Bumblebee sat alone in the rec room. Most members of the Ark were still on shift, there were one or two milling around (except Trailbreaker who for some reason had fallen into recharge in front of the holo-vid projector) as they finished their Energon, but sensing Bumblebee's unusual (for him) brooding mood, they were leaving him be.

Bumblebee looked over his shiny, repaired arm, turning it over slowly to inspect the pristine metal. Ratchet had done his usual exceptional job fixing it, but for some reason Bumblebee felt as if he deserved to still have it mangled. It would serve him right for his stupidity.

He had been analysing his motivations for several breems as he slowly sipped at his energon.

He realised his out of character reaction seemed to boil down to his insecurities over Prowl's avoidance of him. Just thinking about it made his spark twist in first anger then agony. He couldn't ever remember feeling so… _rejected_ …

Did he deserve to feel like that? Had he done something wrong by Prowl in enjoying what had happened? Perhaps… and this thought made his spark lurch sickeningly… the tactician thought he had somehow planned the whole incident…

Far from caring that Prowl had been avoiding him, Bumblebee felt now that HE ought to be avoiding the 2IC… Prowl probably thought he was nuts, HE thought he was going nuts… Pit, he'd pretty much just proven it by throwing himself at the cassette brothers.

_Why the Frag WOULD Prowl want to go any further with me? Look at me, one interface and I'v lost my CPU, I can't think straight, I can't work properly, and all because he, understandably, doesn't want to be around me after… Primus, why did I get my hopes up? What was I THINKING?_

Unable to wallow in his self-depreciative thoughts anymore for fear of doing something else insane, Bumblebee distracted himself by concentrating on the bot who had just walked in.

Sideswipe stood idle in the doorway for a few moments, his gaze sweeping over Bumblebee's head, something the minibot was quite used to from most mechs… and thankful for in Sideswipes case, because not being noticed by the prankster meant you weren't focussed on for any of his jokes.

It seemed that whoever he was looking for wasn't there. He turned as though to leave, then stopped dead, optics resting on the large couch.

His faceplate was split by a wicked grin Bumblebee recognised all too well.

Within two nano-kliks, he had crossed the room to Trailbreaker's offline form and unsubspaced two small items.

Glossa poking out between his dental plates, Sideswipe unscrewed the lid of the paint pot, dipped in the brush, and proceeded to paint all over the other mech's black chassis.

Bumblebee would have laughed… he certainly did find it funny. And yet… even as Sideswipe painted a big human symbol called a 'love heart' on Trailbreaker's helm, he couldn't bring himself to really laugh at anything. The last few cycles of concentrating on all the bad feelings weighing so heavily on his spark, without knowing how to fix it, had dampened his mood so effectively he thought he might sob before he laughed.

He wished he could think of some way to resolve himself… to do what he always did, pick himself up, move on and keep smiling and feel like he'd be alright again soon. But that fact that he couldn't seem to process how to achieve that this time gave him an acute sense of helpless panic.

Absently he noticed Sunstreaker stroll into the room and move over to stand behind his brother, inspecting his work on Trailbreaker critically.

After a few minutes, he shook his helm and snatched the brush off his red twin before he went about expertly detailing the sloppy moustache, monacle and monobrow that Sideswipe had been super-imposing on the defence specialists' faceplate via his windscreen.

Bumblebee didn't really think on the muttered conversation that the twins were having. He didn't want to continue his line of thought, but it dragged him into the murky ache of his own spark without him being able to fight it. Consequently he didn't notice Sideswipe's reaction whatever it was Sunstreaker was telling him.

Bumblebee couldn't really describe the pang of panic at the thought of not being able to find himself a solution to his predicament. He had ALWAYS had _some_ idea of how to fix things that went wrong. He Didn't always like the answers to his problems, but generally he'd get on with whatever he had to do to make things right, at least there was always a way out.

Except this time.

He couldn't catch Prowl to talk to him. He didn't know what to say if he could. He didn't have the right to tell Jazz anything and he didn't want to wreck whatever was left of his professional relationship with the second and third in charge officers. And no one else could really help him because the whole situation was ridiculous in the first place and the less bots knowing the truth of the matter, the better.

Bumblebee felt like he'd jumped into a pit he couldn't climb out of, but only realised he couldn't get out after he jumped… and what was more there was no one to help pull him out because he was on a solitary mission. Radio silence. He was caved in. And now no radio signal in the hole. He'd be stuck down there forever unless someone by chance found him and helped him out, but who would just come across him in a caved in hole? Where was Prowl when he needed him and his more powerful long-range communications abilities? Oh, that was right, Prowl was avoiding him…

Bumblebee felt a sudden surge of annoyance.

But WHY should anyone avoid him? WHY should he have to feel like he'd done something wrong here? He'd taken a bullet for Prowl. And now he'd just taken out two cassettes almost single handedly and he'd HID the fact from everyone like he should feel GUILTY about successfully slagging two Decepticons like he never had before!

He was doing better than most mechs right now, so why did he have to feel so pit-slagging HORRIBLE about the whole thing?

"Want me to upgrade your paintjob Bumblebee?" said a grinning face as Sideswipe plopped down next to the miserable yellow minibot, holding a paintbrush that was dripping bright pink.

Bumblebee wasn't as startled as he had been by other intrusions on his train of thought earlier that day… he had in fact seen the twins walking towards him, but hadn't really processed the sensory information until the red twin had brought him back to the real world.

Sunstreaker sat on Bumblebee's other side with a cool frown. "Put that thing away, that colour looks horrible with yellow." he said with nonchalant disdain.

Pretending to look put-out, Sideswipe gave a dramatic sigh through his vents and re-subspaced his art supplies before leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand and grin lopsidedly at Bumblebee.

"SO, a little cyber-birdie told me you've been hiding exceptional talent from us little Bee."

Bumblebee felt his faceplate heat slightly and threw a look at Sunstreaker, who merely gave him a small wicked smile.

Of _course_ Sunstreaker hadn't hidden it from his twin… but Bumblebee hadn't really thought about the implications of that…

"Wha'd'you mean 'Sides?" Bumblebee muttered.

Sideswipe's grin grew wider.

"Sunny here (his twin growled slightly out of habit at the nickname) told me aaaall about your slag-fest with those cassetticons this morning. Honestly, I'm not as surprised as him. I always wondered if you weren't a ticking time-bomb… always the quiet ones ya gotta watch out for."

"Hmm. Maybe you should be telling Rumble and Frenzy that… bit late now though." Bumblebee muttered, taking a swig from his half-full cube of energon.

He was eager to finish his cube as quickly as possible and find some excuse to escape the twins… they seemed in a playful mood for some reason, but Bumblebee couldn't have been less willing to play along right now.

More mechs were filing into the room as they came off-shift. Bumblebee was fairly certain it would be easy to find an excuse to get away…

"Thing is Bumblebee, I DIDN'T think you had it in you."

Bumblebee turned to look at Sunstreaker with stunned optics. The Golden warrior was looking him over in what Bumblebee was sure was almost a _hungry_ manner. Bumblebee shivered slightly.

"Uuh… thanks?" Bumblebee muttered, completely non-plussed at the toughliner's comment.

"What he means to say, Bee, is he's impressed." Sideswipe supplied in a matter-of-fact way.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate get a little hotter and hid it behind another swig of energon.

"To tell you the truth, _I_ didn't really think I had that in me…" Bumblebee confessed quietly as he put the cube down carefully on the table.

"I could always help you fix that." Sunstreaker's voiced purred to his right.

Bumblebee gave him another startled look. The golden twin's devilish smirk only widened.

"B-but I don't want to fix that! I didn't mean to do it, It's not like me, I know it was stupid, I was just… just…" Bumblebee couldn't bring himself to admit how messed up he felt… especially since he couldn't risk explaining what was MAKING him so messed up to the Twins. He'd be the laughing stock of the Ark if those two found out, and Prowl would be _furious_ with him…

"Whoa, Bee, calm down… we're not here to slag you over it! We wanted to congratulate you…" Sideswipe said smoothly, but his expression had become a little more serious.

Bumblebee looked up at him warily. He could never be sure what Sideswipe's interpretation of the word 'congratulate' was… it could be anything from a round of high-grade to duct-taping you up and hanging you from the rec-room ceiling.

"Hey, don't look so worried! Come on, finish off that cube, we're taking you back to ours, you deserve a little something after taking on those slagging cassettes, and before you say anything, we don't care WHY you did it. It was awesome anyway." Sideswipe said, grin firmly back in place as he got to his feet and put a servo on Bumblebee's shoulder.

Bumblebee wondered how much of a chance he had if he transformed right then and took off. But a soft hum from his right brought his attention to Sunstreaker, who seemed to have read his thoughts in his face and shook his head. Bumblebee stood to try and make excuses, but before he could even get a word out, he felt large servos clamp around his sides and the world seemed to lurch.

It took Bumblebee a few moments to realise what had happened.

He had recognised the feeling of Sunstreaker's servos grasping him, but what had followed was not the usual flying through the air that was involved in games of 'toss the minibot'. Instead, it seemed the melee warrior had thrown Bumblebee over his shoulder and was holding him there easily with one arm around the minibot's midriff.

"Hey! S-Sunstreaker, get off, let me down, come on! This isn't funny."

Bumblebee's weak protests were ignored by the twin. Bumblebee might have kicked him, but he knew better than to scratch the golden twin's paint. He sort of liked his head remaining attached to his body.

"As the squishies say, 'cold-out' Bumblebee. I already told you we're not going to hurt you." Sideswipe said, grinning as he followed his twin through the hallways.

"It's _chill-out_ Sideswipe, and it's kind of hard to chill-out when you're a lot further off the ground than you're used to being against your will." Bumblebee grumbled.

"I'm not going to drop you if that's what your worried about." Sunstreaker sneered.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate burning as Mirage and Tracks walked past in the opposite directions, both giving him confused yet curious looks.

Bumblebee was almost glad when they reached the Twin's shared quarters and he was carried in, still slung over Sunstreaker's shoulder.

"Shame. I was almost hoping you'd get all angry again… it was pretty good the first time." Sunstreaker said airily as he lowered Bumblebee backwards off his shoulder and gently deposited the smaller mech on his own berth.

Bumblebee scowled at him. "I might have if I didn't value my life over your scratched lacquer-work."

Sideswipe entered, laughing as he closed the door behind them.

"So your self-preservation programmes ARE still in tact then. I did wonder…" he said as he strode across the room and started moving some of his stuff.

Bumblebee had seen the inside of the Twin's quarters before, but only from the outside.

It was a large room with a berth against each wall and a moveable screen-like set of sliding panels that could separate the room into two parts. It was folded back however. The divide was still clear though. There was also a doorway that led to private wash racks as the two usually caused so much drama in the communal ones that they had been given their own to keep them out of trouble.

Sideswipe's side of the room was cluttered with this and that in a seemingly haphazard manner.

Sunstreaker's side had neatly stacked pots of wax, paint and polish on the shelves. Under his berth were stacked canvases both covered and clean. On his desk were a few neatly stacked data and image pads and paintbrush holder.

Sunstreaker sat beside him on the berth and Sideswipe joined them, dragging a chair with a box on it over to them.

"Why exactly have you kidnapped me?" Bumblebee asked with an aspiration of his vents signifying his resignation of defeat.

"We told you Bee, we wanted to congratulate you. From what Sunny told me, you really did a number on those little cassettifraggers… and that deserves a toast with the _good_ stuff…"

Sideswipe explained as he drew some cubes of glowing purple liquid from the box and handed them out.

Bumblebee took his with some surprise. "Hey… this isn't…"

"Home brew, our own special fine grade. It takes ages to process, we're lucky to make a batch without Prowl finding out and confiscating it, but you've definitely earned some." Sideswipe boasted proudly, winking at him and taking a good swig. His engine revved with a rumble of satisfaction. "ooooh yea, that's the stuff."

Bumblebee inspected his cube thoughtfully. Beside him Sunstreaker took a graceful draught and hummed as he swilled his cube, letting the potent high-grade run slowly over his taste receptors.

Bumblebee had seen first hand what this stuff could do to the twins. They were never seen drinking it outside of exceptional special occasions when the higher ups turned a blind optic, but every bot on the ark knew if they got slagged on it in private… and slagged they certainly got. And if it could do that to the toughliners, Bumblebee could only imagine what it could do to his lightweight fuel processor.

"Come on Bee, you look like you could use something to lighten your load… don't think we haven't noticed you've been in the pits lately." Sideswipe said as he plopped himself down in the chair he had just taken the box off of. He sounded a lot gentler this time. Bee looked up into his faceplate dubiously, but there was no mischief in his optics.

"I thought you'd jump at the chance to get so slagged you'd forget whatever it is that's been bothering you." Sunstreaker said simply, taking another sip of his cube.

Bumblebee considered his words for a moment. Given the thoughts he had been having when the two had interrupted him, a pang of recklessness rang through his CPU. He did feel like slag. He did need cheering up. And here they were trying to do that and he was still moping.

_I hope Ratchet doesn't find out about this._

Bumblebee took a large swig of the glowing purple liquid and nearly chocked on it. He managed not to spill any and swallowed the too-large gulp, feeling it burn down his fuel-intake. His engine sputtered and coughed just in response to the fumes of the stuff. It was stronger than anything he'd ever had before, ad he could only imagine the noises his engine would make when it actually hit his fuel pump.

Sideswipe laughed. "Whoa, careful, you're a first timer with this stuff… doesn't go down quite the same way as high-grade."

Bumblebee gave him an apologetic grin, waited for his fuel intake to adjust to the super-refined triple distilled energon, and then took a slower sip, this time savouring the taste.

Sideswipe was right. It wasn't as smooth as high grade… and yet Bumblebee found he could appreciate the sharp, unstable fluctuations in the taste. He had to swallow a steady trickle, as leaving it in his mouth to swirl over his glossa was nearly unbearable due to the strength of it. But as he adjusted, he found the sweet yet fresh tang quite invigorating. Despite the fact he was starting to feel a little light-processored.

"I'm going to be frank with you Bumblebee."

The Minibot turned his helm to Sunstreaker, looking politely puzzled at the golden twin's blunt tone.

"You know how I feel about minibots." he continued, the corner of his mouth twitching up despite himself at the look on Bumblebee's face.

"I know you don't really like us, but I don't know why." Bumblebee said, surprised that he could string his words together so comprehensively when his lip components were starting to feel numb.

"I have my reasons… but I also, it would seem…. Have my exceptions." Sunstreaker continued, his voice sliding into it's lower tones.

Sideswipe leaned back into his chair, relaxing as the tingle of fine-grade washed through his frame. He grinned lopsidedly as he listened, interested to see how his brother would go about this…

Bumblebee shuttered his optics once or twice, still puzzled. "What, me?"

Sunstreaker's mouth twitched up again. He'd never really noticed how much he liked Bumblebee's comical little expressions… they were even better when he was starting to get over-charged.

"You _aren't_ like them. You aren't really like anyone, actually, but in a good way… and then you go and act completely unlike YOU… but far be it from me to criticise you for your behaviour. In fact, I think I'v found I _like_ the psycho Bumblebee…"

Bumblebee felt heat in his faceplate. He Didn't break optic contact with the golden warrior. True, the high grade was definitely starting to seep through his systems, but his processor wasn't all that unsettled yet… but surely he wasn't seeing the look he thought he was seeing in those deep azure optics…

"Seeing that side of you brought out made me wonder… what other sides of Bumblebee don't we see? And you know, I decided I wanted to find out… I said I was going to be frank, and so I'm going to tell you what I intent to do. I'm going to get you over-charged, and then I'm going to find that psycho bumblebee and see what he's like by giving you the fragging of a lifetime."

Bumblebee stared at him with wide optics.

Sunstreaker looked back, his expression dead serious.

Bumblebee would have thought more about the implications of agreeing to Sunstreaker's proposal… but instead he burst out giggling.

Sunstreaker blinked and looked over at his brother. Sideswipe shrugged with a silly grin on his faceplate, taking another swig from his cube.

"S-sorry… it's just…*giggle* you were…*giggle* in my top *snigger* my top 5... I just never thought you'd want to… you know, with me…" Bumblebee couldn't help it, he dissolved into silent laughter, doubling over and off lining his optics momentarily.

"Your top five eh? Top five what exactly?" Sunstreaker said smoothly, lounging back on his arm and swirling his cube as he watched the minibot struggle to regain coherence.

"Was I in that top five too?" chimed in Sideswipe with a slight pout.

"Top five mechs I wouldn't mind 'facing. And yea, you were both in there together." Bumblebee laughed as he onlined his optics to take in Sideswipe's sudden glowing expression.

"Aaah, so nice to feel wanted." he said, taking another draught of purple liquid.

"So you DO have devious thoughts about other mechs? I thought I'd like this new Bumblebee… go on then, who are the other three?" Sunstreaker purred as he leaned closer to Bumblebee, a devilish smile curling his faceplate.

"Other three? What… OH right, two of five… um…"

Bumblebee suddenly felt nervous. He really wasn't sure he wanted to say… in fact, he wasn't sure the list didn't need some serious revision at the moment… however, the fine-grade was doing it's job, and he didn't feel that the Twins would be bandying this information about if they planned to make an advance on him…

The very realisation that that's what they were doing lightened his mood considerably.

"Well… there's some tough competition for placements *giggle* but I always kinda thought smokescreen would be fun…"

Sideswipe gave a whoop of laughter and slapped his knee with his servo.

Sunstreaker gave him a quizzical look.

"Smokescreen? Really? HE's up there with US?"

"I said I thought he might be _fun_ , not _hot_."

Sunstreaker gave him a surprised look before his wicked smile broke over his faceplate in earnest.

"I see, so WE'VE got _hot_ 'facing covered, Smokescreen is the 'fun frag', who else did you have dirty little lines of code about in that processor of yours?"

Bumblebee looked thoughtful and took another sip of his cube.

He knew he had to lie now. As much as he didn't want to think about it, Prowl and Jazz definitely now took up the other two spots… but technically he had always counted the twins as ONE spot on his list, so he supposed he could give away the other who had been on there a while.

"Wheeljack."

There was stunned silence for a moment as the twins both gaped at him.

"Wheeljack?" Sideswipe said in a slightly strangled tone.

"Yea…I mean, well, he was always really nice to me… he seems so kind and gentle, and I had this funny thought that, you know, he blows stuff up all the time, I bet he could give you an explosive overload if he wanted… uuuh, 'Sides?"

The red twin had slid off the chair and onto the floor and was rolling around having some kind of fit. It was a moment before Bumblebee realised he was laughing so hard his vocaliser had seized up and all he could do was release small bursts of static as he rolled on the floor with raucous mirth.

"An explosive overload hmmm? I don't suppose you've had one of those in a while… unless you're better at self-interfacing than I think…" Sunstreaker mused deviously.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate glow a dull cherry colour. He couldn't believe he was letting the words that immediately formed in his processor reach his vocaliser, but that was one connection the fine-grade had seemingly sped up rather than slowed down.

"You could always give me something to aspire to, if you wanted."

Sunstreaker's eyes widened at the same time Bumblebee's did. They both looked at each other for an astrosecond or two.

"Now that's what _I'm_ talking about." Sunstreaker half growled, half purred, and before Bumblebee knew it, he had been pulled into the toughliner's lap.

Sunstreaker threw back the rest of his fine-grade in one go before setting the empty cube down and placing both servos firmly on Bumblebee's hip plating.

Bumblebee grasped his own cube with both hands as Sunstreaker had him with his back to the warrior's chassis. Bumblebee arched and gasped as the familiar gold hands started to do unfamiliar things…

The skilled digits pressed and caressed the yellow plating, moving around his front before tracing the edges of his pelvic armour back towards his hips. Bumblebee shuddered and whined softly under the touches.

"That stuff has a relay response enhancing agent in it by the way… finish that cube and I promise you you'll never have felt anything like this in your whole life stream." the golden twin purred in his audio.

Obligingly, Bumblebee raised his shaking servos to his lips and attempted to drain the rest of his fine-grade the way Sunstreaker had, but it was still his first time with the potent mix, and with Sunstreaker's distracting touches he gagged a little on the burning liquid. Some of it trickled down his faceplate. He went to wipe it away, but a servo gently caught his arm.

Bumblebee looked up to find Sideswipe had picked himself up off the floor and now kneeled in front of them. He reached up, bringing his faceplate and burning azure optics up towards Bumblebee's.

Bumblebee was frozen for one terrifyingly wonderful moment, and a thrill of excitement shuddered through him as the red twin's glossa slipped out and trailed up his chin, collecting the fine-grade along the way. What Sideswipe missed with his glossa, he sucked up with his lips.

Eventually, he made his way up to Bumblebee's mouth and traced his glossa over them. Bumblebee did not press forward, though he desperately wanted to… he parted his lips slightly in a silent plea instead, and Sideswipe complied, still smiling.

Bumblebee moaned into the kiss and Sideswipe's glossa darted unabashedly into the minibot's mouth and began to map it's perimeters. Bumblebee could still taste the fine grade on the red twin's glossa as he stroked it with his own.

Bumblebee gave a small muffled cry as he felt Sunstreaker pull him closer, the golden digits snaking up his sides to trace the glass on the sides of his chest plate.

The sensations seemed magnified. Every little vibration from the Lamborghini's fingertips reaching his processor and pinging his pleasure sensors. He moaned and leant back into Sunstreaker's chassis.

Having been pulled from Bumblebee's lips by his brother's usual possessive behaviour, Sideswipe decided to make his way down the Beetle's frame and attend the parts Sunstreaker wasn't busy with.

His lips and glossa teased their way down Bumblebee's neck and he plucked the still quarter full cube from the spy's small servos to set it by Sunstreaker's empty cube as the minibot gasped and mewled at their combined ministrations. Bumblebee was such a lightweight it didn't really matter that he hadn't finished, three quarters of a cube would easily be enough to get him just over-charged enough to REALLY enjoy this…

One of Sunstreaker's servos went to Bumblebee's chin and tilted his head back. The Golden warrior lowered his helm and easily claimed the minibot's lips upside-down.

Bumblebee found Sunstreaker's strange wrong-way-around kiss intensely exhilarating, and he extended his glossa to meet the others'. Sunstreaker gave an appreciative growl at Bumblebee's responsive nature and nipped at his bottom lip.

Bumblebee moaned into the kiss as his now exceptionally exposed neck cables were given a thorough work over by Sideswipe's glossa and denta.

Bumblebee's hands, with nothing to hold, reached to grasp the closest thing to them. This happened to be Sunstreaker's thighs, which he was half straddling in his position balanced on the toughliner's lap.

His small digits sought out the seams of the golden twin's plating and dove in the moment he found them.

Sunstreaker was now the one to moan into the kiss.

Sideswipe bit particularly hard on Bumblebee's most recently repaired neck cable, causing him to keen and grit his servos hard into Sunstreaker's legs, eliciting a deep growl from the golden twin before he finally broke the kiss with a gasp.

"Whatever you just did 'Sides… he liked it… and then I liked it."

Sideswipe smirked at his brother and moved down Bumblebee's chassis, knowing this cycle all to well. It was not the first time they had shared a mech, but Bumblebee was the first new mech they'd both had together in a long time.

While neither wanted to waste the rare treat, they were neither of them particularly patient mechs.

Which suited Bumblebee just fine. Even through his now definitely over-charged processor, he knew he wouldn't last long under the double ministrations. He had to encourage them to move on…

Bumblebee ground his aft against Sunstreaker's panel and the golden twin spread his legs a little in response, forcing Bumblebee's legs a little wider as well.

Sideswipe traced his glossa down Bumblebee's hood as Sunstreaker moved his hands upwards, surrounding Bumblebee's helm.

Bumblebee gasped and whimpered as Sideswipe got lower and Sunstreaker's thumbs traced his horns lightly before pressing harder.

Bumblebee's hands trailed up Sunstreaker's thighs until he found the gap where his leg joints met his hips. He dove his small nimble digits into what was a sizeable space for them and delved them into wires mercilessly, knowing from seeing Sunstreaker's public displays that this was the sort of treatment he appreciated.

Bumblebee was rewarded by the golden warrior growling and affixing his mouth around one of the yellow horns on his helm.

Bumblebee moaned loudly, grinding his aft against Sunstreaker again, feeling Sideswipe shiver at the sound as the red twin's glossa travelled over the ridge of his pelvic armour.

Bumblebee shuddered violently as sensations hit his processor from his head and pelvic plating.

He dug his fingers deeper into the wires of Sunstreaker's joints and curled them, twiddling them feverishly.

"Nnngh, whatever you're doing 'Sides, don't stop… _Primus_ he can get those things in deep…" Sunstreaker gasped around one of the yellow horns he had been tracing his denta over to elicit more delicious sounds from the yellow minibot. He had never thought Bumblebee could heat his circuits so much just by moaning…

Sideswipe smirked again.

"Oh, I'll give him an excuse to really get his claws into you Sunshine." the red Lamborghini purred.

Before Bumblebee could really process what was happening, he felt the black servos gently cup his heated codpiece, a thumb pressing and sliding the panel up before a hot glossa was pressed firmly to his interfacing circuitry and dragged upwards.

Bumblebee cried out as he felt the explosion of pleasurable sensations from between his legs.

His hands automatically grasped at wires in Sunstreaker's hips and the yellow twin hissed in pleasure as the small black servos trembled.

"Get him ready for me." Sunstreaker growled softly, licking one of Bumblebee's horns then sucking it as his thumb rubbed the other.

Bumblebee's entire frame trembled and he did nothing to stifle his loud whimpers and mewls as Sideswipe's glossa laved around his valve entrance…

Until a loud angry knock at the door interrupted them that was. Bumblebee tried to mute his vocaliser as an angry voice yelled through the locked door.

Neither of the Twins seemed at all perturbed by the intrusion of their moment. Sunstreaker pressed one of his palms softly to Bumblebee's mouth as Sideswipe teasingly flicked his glossa into Bumblebee's port. Bumblebee gave a muffled whimper and shivered violently.

"-SIDESWIPE I DON'T CARE WHO YOU TWO ARE 'FACING IN THERE, AND YES I HEARD THEM ALREADY, BUT YOU BETTER HOPE THIS SLAGGING, PIT FRAGGED PAINT COMES OFF WITH NORMAL SOLVENT OR I SWEAR I'LL GET PROWL ON BOTH YOUR AFTS…"

Bumblebee would have felt a little guilty for not trying to stop Sideswipe earlier, but he couldn't really focus on what Trailbreaker was yelling at them through the door because Sideswipe was still ravishing his now dripping port with his glossa and had just added a digit to start preparing him for his brother.

Bumblebee shuddered at the mere thought with arousal and excitement.

"-AND IF THAT WAS YOU I HEARD BLUESTREAK, DON'T THINK I WON'T TELL PROWL YOU WERE IN ON IT!"

"YOU'LL HAVE TO FIND PROWL FIRST." Sunstreaker called out and Sideswipe sniggered into Bumblebee's port.

They heard him leave huffily with several colourful choice curse words.

Bumblebee giggled, imagining the look on Trailbreakers face if he saw them like this, realising how funny that image would be given the Twin's decoration of the defence specialist…

Bumblebee let out a cry as Sunstreaker's hand slid from his mouth and Sideswipe teased his valve walls with his finger. The golden servos were placed on the minibot's hips to hold him steady for Sideswipe, who had removed his glossa and just inserted another digit into Bumblebee, pumping him slowly and scissoring to widen the tight little port.

Bumblebee was clearly not a virgin, but he'd probably feel like one given the twin's size difference to the minibot. Bumblebee couldn't silence himself… he was reluctant to shut off his vocaliser as well because the Twins seemed to react so well to the sounds he made.

He felt one of Sunstreaker's servos leave his hip and slide down behind his aft and between them.

There was a click as Sunstreaker opened his panel, and Bumblebee felt knuckles pressed into his aft deliberately as the golden twin popped out his own cord and teased it out.

"Oooh… someone wants you pretty bad Sunny." Sideswipe commented as he felt Bumblebee lubricate more and tighten around his digits.

He took them out of the minibot to allow his brother to tease the tip of his large spike across the minibot's valve entrance.

Bumblebee whimpered needily and tried to lift himself so that he could reach around and guide Sunstreaker in, get better haptic data on the melee warrior's interface cable… but the golden twin's other servo pushed and held him down, spreading Bumblebee's legs a little wider with his own.

Bumblebee's cooling fans were working overtime as it was, but when Sunstreaker finally thrust his spike into him at the same time Sideswipe popped Bumblebee's own cord out, they buzzed and whined as their pace increased in an effort to cool the circuits that had just ran hot with incredible lust.

Bumblebee ran his digits across thick wiring and brushed the edges of transformation cogs in Sunstreaker's hips, causing the melee warrior to groan and buck.

Bumblebee's small port was exceptionally well lubricated by now, but it closed around the Lamborghini's thick cable the moment it entered.

He was big for Bumblebee, bigger than Prowl had been, certainly… Bumblebee whimpered in both pleasure and pain as Sunstreaker thrust hard, trying to force his spike through the small and contracted valve towards Bumblebee's plug.

" _Primus_ you're tight… am I hurting you?" Sunstreaker asked softly, stopping a moment and ventilating hot air over Bumblebee's audio.

Bumblebee knew he wasn't really stretched enough yet to take Sunstreaker comfortably, but he didn't care… his last interface had given him what felt like some sick taste for mixed pain and pleasure signals.

Right now though, all that mattered to his over-charged processor was the sensations, and as Sideswipe's mouth closed around the tip of his now extended cable, Bumblebee ground out a "don't stop." to Sunstreaker.

Obligingly, Sunstreaker held him firm and rocked his hips back before thrusting forward hard.

Bumblebee cried out passionately at the feeling of Sunstreaker's spike penetrating him so forcefully, and the sound was so delicious to the toughliners they both quivered.

Sideswipe lowered his mouth slowly down Bumblebee's well proportioned, if not slightly long for him cable, twisting his glossa around it, compensating in his movements for the minibot's uncontrollably bucking hips.

Even with both of Sunstreaker's servos now back on his pelvic plating trying to hold him steady, the incredible sensations shooting through his relays from his full interfacing array made him jerk and buck violently, his intakes quivering and engine revving to it's full torque.

Sideswipe hilted Bumblebee in his warm mouth, glossa lashing and massaging the black cord as Bumblebee whimpered and moaned, the wire clusters in his port clenching even tighter around Sunstreaker, making him gasp and groan at the pressure.

"PIT that's tight…"

"s-sorry…Ahhh I ca-NNNNGH… can't help it…." Bumblebee gasped apologetically, almost desperately.

"s'alright… want me to keep going?"

"MNH, YES…."

Sunstreaker purred with satisfaction at his answer.

The very thought of movement within him when he could feel every inch of the half of Sunstreaker's spike already in his port nearly made him overload, but he held it back as best as he could.

It didn't help that Sideswipe was now drawing off him while sucking _hard._

Bumblebee let out one long, loud moan as Sunstreaker rocked his hips back then up forcefully again, increasing the power of his spike's magnetic element.

Bumblebee wasn't sure how the toughliner did it with his port clenched so tight, and he didn't even hear the click over his own moan, but he felt the connection establish and he arched back into the golden chassis as a strong stream of sensory data flooded into him.

Suddenly he felt echoes of the sensations his fingers were causing in the golden warrior's leg joints. He removed one of them, and Sunstreaker gave a grunt of discontent… until the freed servo flashed before his optics for a moment… and then his processor exploded as small digits pressed firmly to and stroked hard down the slats of one of his helm vents.

Bumblebee shuddered with delight as Sunstreaker let out a loud moan exactly as he would have done when Bluestreak had done the same thing only joors ago.

"If he hasn't already overloaded you Sunny, move your aft back, I want up." Sideswipe mumbled around Bumblebee's cord, the vibrations making the minibot ventilate hard.

Sunstreaker, who had pressed his forehead onto the top of Bumblebee's helm, used one servo to help him scoot them both back against the wall. Sunstreaker's legs were now sprawled straight, pedes hovering off the edges of the berth, but he kept them apart so that Bumblebee was spread wide open and couldn't move his own.

Bumblebee whimpered in ecstasy… he never thought he'd be so turned on by restriction… he knew if he really wanted Sunstreaker would allow him to move, but then a part of him _wanted_ Sunstreaker to outright deny him if he asked. The thought of the larger mech having complete control in ravishing him gave him a thrill of hot excitement… he only trusted the more violent twin to take control though while Sideswipe was there too. 'Sides was sensible enough to reign in his passionate sibling if he got too rough.

Another surge of sensory data came his way through the connection to Sunstreaker as he ran his digits down the gold and black helm vent again.

Sunstreaker moaned deeply into his audios, mouth moving over one of Bumblebee's horns again, biting down hard.

A true whimper from Bumblebee and an echo of pain made Sunstreaker relinquish.

"Sorry… your fault… those servos of yours…" Sunstreaker mumbled, licking the horn soothingly.

Sideswipe let out a 'tch' as he climbed up and knelt with his legs straddling his brother's.

"He can be so charming when interfacing, but I'm sure you already guessed that." Sideswipe crooned as he reached down to stroke his own still closed codpiece.

Bumblebee could see his optics were dark with intense lust as he drank in the scene before him. He imagined what he must look like, Sunstreaker keeping him spread, his cord hilted in him, one of Bumblebee's hands in the warrior's hip, the other stretched up and latched onto a helm crest.

He realised with a shudder why Sideswipe looked so turned on.

The red toughliner opened his interface panel, and immediately lubricant trickled down the inside of his thigh. The sight aroused Bumblebee even more… Sideswipe was one of those mechs it was easy to imagine looking hot and wanting, but the real thing still trumped any imagined image he might have had.

'Sides shuffled closer until his knees touched Bumblebee's.

Bumblebee, sensing that his touch on Sunstreaker's helm was enough for the golden warrior at the moment, removed the hand in the moaning Lamborghini's leg joint and took it to Sideswipe, trailing up his side as the Red twin took Bumblebee's cord in one servo and lined himself up.

As Sideswipe lowered himself onto Bumblebee, the Twins let out the same frequency high pitched moan, feeling the minibot between them through their bond.

Bumblebee made only a strangled sound of rapture, his arm curling around Sideswipe to draw him closer. He snaked his fingers as far around the red twin's side as he could reach and searched for the gap in Sideswipe's back armour that he was looking for.

He found where the jetpack integrated with the toughliner's circuits and delved his hand in, stroking the large wire bundles he came across.

Sideswipe cried out, arching into him and pressing him firmly into Sunstreaker so that he was well and truly sandwiched. The feeling of further restriction to him only served to arouse Bumblebee more… and then Sunstreaker, with a lustful growl, bucked into him, thrusting his own cord up further into Sideswipe's slick, hot port. The click resounded in Bumblebee's audios this time and the three cried out as a strange, three way connection was formed.

Bumblebee had a servo on each twin now, one still rubbing away at Sunstreaker's vent, the other now buried in Sideswipe's lower back under his jetpack.

Sunstreaker had his mouth around a yellow horn, and suddenly Sideswipe took the other in his own mouth.

Then the Twins, both connected to the now mewling, writhing yellow minibot, both feeling the echoes of their ministrations on him, sent simultaneous, instantly synchronised spark pulses into him.

It was too much for Bumblebee. He didn't even get to send his own spark pulse into Sideswipe and feel the reverberation go through him and back to Sunstreaker… the combination of processor blowing sensations of two mouths and glossa sucking his sensitive horns, his port stretched around a thick cable while his own was buried in another exceptionally wet heat was nearly enough to send him over as it was, but then the double energy pulse practically threw him straight into the exquisite abyss.

Bumblebee screamed out his pleasure, his intense overload and clutching servos sending both twins into overload with him.

The two toughliners came silently, gasping though their ventilators seized up. Sideswipe's knees gave out as he clung to his brother's shoulders, pressing the writhing minibot between them.

The twins pressed their helms together, Bumblebee's impassioned cry sending tremors of ecstasy through them as violent pleasure tore through him and spilled over to them.

Bumblebee rode the incredible sensations as long as he could stand to, feeling intensely the hot cord inside him and the contracted warmth surrounding his own spike.

His intakes had hitched completely, and pressed between the two very warm frames of the twins, his small chassis quickly overheated and he went into stasis as his systems began a complete reset.

He was only half unconscious for this process, as while his physical functions were refreshed, his meta remained online and aware, even though he couldn't access his optic or vocal functions.

He felt like he was floating in a sea of bliss, into which he had melted and was now dispersing. He'd never felt anything like this, but he quickly realised it was probably the fine-grade and whatever additive the Twins had put into it that was doing this to him.

"Hhholyyyy _Primus_." Sideswipe ventilated heavily as the overload finally began to ebb. It was one of the most intense he'd had in a long time.

"Sure packs one hell of a punch for his size…" Sunstreaker breathed as he leaned his helm back against the wall, hips twitching slightly.

Sideswipe realised as he leant back and put his weight on his knees again that the minibot between them was limp against his chest plate.

He put his servos on Bumblebee's shoulders and peered a little worriedly into the silver faceplate.

"Hey… Bee, you OK?" he muttered, noting the large red streaks of paint he'd left on the small yellow chassis. The smaller mech's plating felt very hot under his servos.

There was no response from Bumblebee.

"Oh slag Sunny, you don't think we…"

Sunstreaker sighed loudly. "NO 'Sides, you ask that EVERY time, because EVERY time you forget what a double interface does to a mech. I'v only ever known ONE bot that didn't offline after a full-array 'face…" Sunstreaker leaned forward and put an audio to the beetle's back, "… and he's not even offline, just resetting… I'm impressed."

Sunstreaker leant back, but Sideswipe frowned, unconvinced. "But… what if we fritzed him, I mean that virus thing was only just over a week ago, his processor might not have been able to take it with the fine grade, what'll we do if he doesn't reset right?"

Sunstreaker made a motion as though rolling his optics at his brother before reaching down between his hips and Bumblebee's aft, gently disconnecting his spike and drawing it slowly out so as not to cause damage.

He gave a hum of satisfaction as copious amounts of lubricant trailed down from the minibot's port as he drew out, his plug making an audible pop as he exited the still tight valve.

Bumblebee let out a soft moan. The shocks of after-pleasure from Sunstreaker's departure from his now hyper-sensitive port had brought him back from standby a little faster.

The relieved sigh from Sideswipe's vents washed air over Bumblebee's frame and he onlined his optics.

Bumblebee felt Sideswipe shudder slightly as a small echo of pleasure reached him through their still established connection. It was from the ventilation he had just stimulated Bumblebee's sensors with.

Slowly, groggily and reluctantly, Bumblebee unplugged himself from Sideswipe and let the toughliner draw himself off, although he made Bumblebee gasp as he clenched his valve walls deliberately while he slowly slipped off the minibot's cord.

Sunstreaker gave a small 'humph' of discontent somewhere behind Bumblebee, and the yellow beetle turned to see large yellow paint streaks decorating the golden chassis and hips.

"Oh… gee Sunny, sorry about that, I didn't even think…" Bumblebee muttered warily, his processor still fuzzy with the haze of overload and fear the touchy melee warrior would take offence at the indiscretion.

To his surprise, as he slid forward with aching hip joints off the gold twin's lap, Sunstreaker merely gave him a sultry smirk.

"It was worth it. If you want to make it up to me though…" he reached over to his berth-side table and grabbed his usually on-hand supplies… a soft chemise and a large tin of paint cleaner/polisher.

Bumblebee took it and got to work, not at all minding doing a bit of paint maintenance on the bots who had just given him one of the most memorable frags of his life.

"I'll do you next 'Sides, if you want." He said over his shoulder as the red twin stood and stretched a little.

Sideswipe smirked and crossed his arms over his yellow streaked red chassis. "Thanks, but I'm pretty good here. I can do it later." He said sounding a little amused.

Bumblebee realised he was on all fours, rubbing in gentle circles at the largest of the paint marks on Sunstreakers chassis, with his aft in the air and interface panel still wide-open.

Still on a post overload and overcharged high, he wiggled his hips at Sideswipe with a giggle as Sunstreaker offlined his optics and his engine purred in contentment at Bumblebee's soothing motions as he cleaned.

Bumblebee's optics roved down the golden chassis to assess all the paint-marks he would need to remove. As he saw the yellow marks above the toughliner's interface array, he noticed that under Sunstreaker's still extended and lubricant covered spike (which he realised had been in him only moments ago and he still wasn't sure how it had fitted, now he could see it), his valve was exposed and dripping with untouched arousal.

Moving the cloth slowly down the golden twin's chassis, he slowly and carefully rubbed at the marks on Sunstreaker's hip plating.

Knowing Sideswipe was still amusing himself with drinking in the sight of Bumblebee's open interface panel, the minibot leant down on his elbows, leaving his aft in the air and giving Sideswipe an even better (and unbeknownst to him, all together more enticing) view of his still messy and dripping valve and cable.

Sideswipe gave a soft hum of satisfaction.

Bumblebee, meanwhile, extended his neck, and still rubbing the cloth on the plating above Sunstreaker's open interface panel, he poked out his glossa and nosed past the golden twin's cord to trace it around the edge of that glistening valve.

Sunstreaker's intakes hitched at the sensations on his untouched port. He unconsciously slid forward a little, pressing into the touch.

Bumblebee pressed his glossa a little more firmly to the rim of the port, collecting some of the tangy-sweet lubricant as he traced the outside.

He felt a large servo rest gently but insistently on the back of his helm, thumbing one of his horns again.

It was a testament to the power of the Twin's enhanced fine-grade that they were so easily stirred back into arousal even after such an intense overload.

Bumblebee plunged his glossa into Sunstreaker, pressing firmly to the bundles of wires that made up the walls.

Sunstreaker rumbled in satisfaction, engine growling in a more forceful purr as his strokes on Bumblebee's horns matched the motions of the minibot's glossa.

There was a soft moan behind him, and Bumblebee knew Sideswipe could see his port reacting to Sunstreaker's touch on his horns.

Bumblebee spread his legs a little more and arched his back-strut down, just to give the red Twin a better show.

"So much for cleaning me up." Purred Sunstreaker, off lining his optics and shivering slightly as the small glossa stroked the wires of his valve.

"I am clunung… jus not the paint." Bumblebee said, words muffled as he spoke them with his glossa still in Sunstreaker, making the golden twin moan softly at the vibrations.

Bumblebee mewled into the melee warrior as he felt something touch and lightly run over his port entrance.

"Hope you intend to help me finish what you started, you little tease." Sideswipe said coyly as he continued to brush his stiff, pressurised cord against Bumblebee's still dripping entrance.

"Mmmnh, like I'd say no when you're doing that!" Bumblebee gasped, making Sunstreaker chuckle.

"See, THAT's the Bumblebee _I_ was looking for… where do you hide him, I want more…"

Bumblebee would have felt a little bashful that he was, for the second time in less than two earth weeks, letting others see his usually very privately devious side… but being overcharged, his reasoning programs were functioning a little more loosely, and so he thought it only appropriate to give Sunstreaker what he wanted.

"More hmm? If you insist." And he took two of his black digits and pressed them right into Sunstreaker without preamble. The toughliner gave a rare cry of ecstasy.

Bumblebee re-inserted his glossa with the fingers and gave Sunstreaker's port the best work over he could while allowing Sideswipe to lower his aft and position himself between his legs.

When Sideswipe slowly inserted himself into Bumblebee with a soft moan of relief, the minibot keened into Sunstreaker as more incredible waves of pleasure assailed his processor from his over-sensitive and now stretched port.

Bumblebee inserted another finger into Sunstreaker and pumped him forcefully, knowing the golden twin would appreciate it. An exceptionally firm stroke on one of his horns told him he was right.

Bumblebee gave a muffled sound of surprise as something suddenly dripped down over Sunstreaker's interface array.

Moving his faceplate back, but still pumping and twiddling his digits, he saw that Sunstreaker had taken the rest of the contents of his unfinished cube of fine-grade and poured it over his own pelvic plating.

"Oops… guess you'll have to clean that up…" Sunstreaker purred, optics nearly indigo with his arousal.

Bumblebee moaned low as Sideswipe slowly rocked back ad forth inside him, wanting to stimulate his port as much as possible before actually connecting with his plug.

"Yea… guess I will…" he gasped, and he leaned forward with one of Sideswipe's forward motions to lap up the fine grade on either side of the black and gold cord.

Once he had licked up as much as he could, he took the large, still extended spike in his mouth and began sucking off the fine-grade and lubricant that smattered it's length.

Sunstreaker let out a loud moan as the small glossa massaged his cord while the three black digits pumped him even harder with Sideswipe's slightly more insistent movements in the small hot port.

Bumblebee gave a satisfied hum as he took more of Sunstreaker into his mouth, tasting himself along with that sweet but powerful fine-grade. A giddy sensation swept through his processor and he twirled his fingers playfully around in Sunstreaker's valve with a little giggle.

Sunstreaker's grip on his helm became a little firmer and he pinched one of the horns between a forefinger and digit, rubbing hard.

Bumblebee let out more mewls around his cord as he took as much as he could fit in his small mouth, working his glossa hard on the underside of the cable sheathing. His mewls increased in volume as Sideswipe rocked into him harder, magnetising his spike and finally plugging into Bumblebee.

Bumblebee gasped, and Sunstreaker seemed to take this as some kind of invitation, because he slipped further forward, pressing his cord further down the minibot's throat. Bumblebee whimpered, and Sideswipe came to his rescue, having felt his slight panic through the connection, leaning over and slapping away the servo holding Bumblebee's helm so the yellow beetle could pull back. Bumblebee's fuel intake valve had shuttered in response to the spike being pressed so deep past his glossa palette, and it had nearly triggered his tank to purge. Which he felt might spoil the mood considerably. He hadn't done this much… certainly not with a mech as big as Sunstreaker, and he certainly wasn't ready to try and take all of him in his mouth.

"Sorry Bee, you OK?" Sideswipe murmured in his audio, still leaning over his back and holding Bumblebee's thighs to his hips.

"Mnn… that was my bad… I'm not used to bots as small as you… kind-of a turn on though… but only cause it's you." Sunstreaker muttered, giving Bumblebee's other horn an apologetic rub.

Bumblebee leant his helm into the touch and his engine purred loudly. It was a _very_ rare thing to be apologised to by Sunstreaker for _anything_ … and the fact that the exceptionally handsome toughliner was turned on by _him…_

Bumblebee accepted the apology by rubbing Sunstreaker's valve walls harder and pressing deeper.

Then, feeling spurred on by the Twin's considerate treatment of him, he sent a strong spark pulse to Sideswipe through their connection, causing the red twin to buck and gasp, the echo making Bumblebee feel a little light-processored.

He took Sunstreaker's spike in his mouth again and sucked lightly on the tip, this time brushing his denta over the insulation. Sunstreaker had already shuddered and moaned from the feeling he'd received through his bond from his brother, but now Bumblebee had to compensate in his motions as Sideswipe had done for him, while Sunstreaker bucked weakly.

Bumblebee bit down automatically as Sideswipe sent an even stronger spark-pulse back to him in response. Sunstreaker let out a delicious cry of ecstasy as Bumblebee moaned and released his denta.

"Oh _Primus_ do that again…" Sunstreaker breathed, fans and engine roaring with arousal.

Sideswipe smirked, leaning over and whispering something into Bumblebee's audio.

Bumblebee hummed over Sunstreaker's cord as he sucked and licked it to soothe his accidental bite. Not that Sunstreaker seemed to have minded it…

Bumblebee followed Sideswipe's instructions and, discarding the cleaning chemise, slipped two fingers on each of his servos into Sunstreaker's hot, lubricant streaming port. He drew them back, rubbing the walls just inside the valve entrance, and took a little more of the black and gold spike in his mouth.

Sideswipe sent another spark pulse through Bumblebee… as strong as he could, and it washed through the minibot, a super charge of exquisite pleasure. He reacted strongly, ramming his four digits hard into Sunstreaker while biting down and drawing off the golden twin's spike.

Sunstreaker bucked hard and cried out in ecstasy as he overloaded, pinching both of Bumblebee's horns.

With Sunstreaker's impassioned cry ringing in his audios and the pressure on his horns and energy coursing through from Sideswipe, Bumblebee followed.

Sideswipe was less than a nanoklik behind them, grasping Bumblebee's plating hard and grinding into the minibot as he received the overload echoes from his spark bond and his hardline connections.

This time, Bumblebee remained online, but he knew he was well and truly overcharged by now. The two overloads in a row had sped up his metabolisation of the super-concentrated energon. As the waves of intense pleasure faded, he gave the end of Sunstreaker's cable a firm lick before drawing off it.

He drew his shaking servos slowly from the contracted, dripping port and rested his helm on the top ridge of Sunstreaker's pelvic plating, his intakes panting hard to cool his once again overheated circuits.

He gave a soft keen of pleasure as Sideswipe rested his servos on the berth and drew slowly out of Bumblebee's now well stretched port. Bumblebee felt a sated yet exquisite ache in his valve walls as Sideswipe's large spike popped out of him.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both gave satisfied moans as their engines cooled and fans hummed.

Slowly, Sunstreaker moved his servos from their lax grip on Bumblebee's helm and grasped his wrists, pulling him gently up into his lap again, ignoring the fact the minibot was trailing lubricant across the birth and both their thighs.

Sunstreaker lifted Bumblebee's servos to his mouth and began to lick them clean. Bumblebee giggled as Sunstreaker gave him a smouldering smirk and hummed around his small digits.

Bumblebee's gyro-stabilising components were being rendered somewhat useless by the fine-grade coursing through his tubes and he swayed in Sunstreakers hold as the golden toughliner finished cleaning his own lubricant with apparent satisfaction from the minibot's digits.

Sideswipe crawled up onto the berth with them and snatched Bumblebee from his brother's loose grasp. Bumblebee gave a surprised squeak, but did not protest as the red toughliner enfolded his arms around his chassis and curled around him on his side like he was a human child's plush toy.

"That was a lot more fun than I think I thought it would be." Sideswipe grinned, licking one of Bumblebee's horns and nuzzling the back of his helm.

Bumblebee's intakes buzzed in response as his processor tried to figure out slowly which way was up before it registered he was now lying on his side.

"Definitely worth getting him overcharged for." Sunstreaker purred, curling up to them like a golden cat with a handsome smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Bumblebee managed to wriggle his arms free of Sideswipe's loose hold to stroke gratefully at the nearest gaps in the twin's armour he could find. Both Twins engines reverberated pleasantly through his frame in response and his hand slowly stilled and went slack as he fell into recharge between them.


	5. Chapter 5

Prowl onlined with a start, sitting bolt upright and gasping. His ventilators were humming to cool his over-heated circuits.

After a nanoklik, Prowl gave a soft moan and ran a servo over his faceplate, upon which condensation had gathered.

He reached over to his berth-side table and extracted a spare cloth from the drawer, using it to clear the moisture that had gathered on his plating.

He daren't do more than swipe quickly and deftly at the water… he didn't want to give his sensory array an excuse to go off more than it already had. Unfortunately, no matter how un-sensuous his motions were, they lit up his already over-active sensors.

With a small rough hum of frustration, Prowl threw the cloth back in the drawer and got off the berth. Not even bothering to do his usual joint stretches to limber up for another dayshift of holing up in his office with a steadily amassing pile of data-pads, Prowl left his quarters and walked over to his desk.

Rather than sit at it, he unsubspaced a cube of energon he'd swiped yesterday when he knew Ratchet was busy, and sipping from it, he paced.

The dreams were getting worse. Prowl, despite his battle computer and highly tuned logic circuits, dreamed a lot more than most mechs. Perceptor had assured him it was merely his psyche's reaction to his unwavering conscious logic when he was online. When offline, his suppressed illogical codes would roam free, and the scientist had said this was perfectly healthy. Much healthier indeed than completely ignoring or shunting the codes away constantly.

Ordinarily then, Prowl didn't mind his strange dreams, and let them run their course, sometimes recording on an external data file what he had imagined, simply for his own interest.

But this was getting ridiculous.

Having not been subjected to one of his 'heats' for vorns, he had forgotten that the effects on his CPU were quite as intense as those on his frame and sensory circuits.

He hadn't been able to get a decent recharge in an Orn. Even if he could have, he doubted it would have helped him get through his work… for awake he was as much distracted as he was offline.

And the more he suppressed the visions his meta constructed of Jazz and Bumblebee when he was online and trying to file through the multitudes of reports that streamed in steadily, the more vivid they became when he tried to recharge.

This time had been much the same as the last few joors… Jazz had been feeling Bumblebee's frame enticingly, and the minibot had been making the most delicious noises. The two had fondled each other in front of him, and he had been completely unable to touch them, as if he weren't there… they too had ignored him, slowly getting more intense with their touches before overloading each other and crying out Prowl's name.

The mere thought made Prowls door wings quiver.

This was _insane._

Shame and lust burnt through his spark in a constant smoulder as he felt heat shiver through his circuits.

Knowing he would hate himself for it, (like he didn't already) he pushed the images and sounds away and walked over to the desk, sculling the rest of his energon impatiently and sitting down, grabbing the nearest data-pad.

He knew he had to end this soon… he wasn't sure how much more he could take, and it was painfully clear he wasn't going to feel any better until he'd confessed and fragged Jazz's (and possibly/probably Bumblebee's if he didn't hate him too much) diodes out… but he still couldn't do more than draw a blank when he tried to figure out what to say, and he did not kid himself that it was anything less than the fear of rejection that was holding him back.

He reasoned that he most certainly couldn't work out a solution when he had so much work to do, and it had been backing up as his efficiency lagged due to lack of recharge and his generally distracting physical 'issues'.

* * *

After a few cycles, Prowl groaned and leant his head forward, holding the sides of his helm in his servos, off lining his optics.

This was utterly _useless._

It was as if his processor refused to function until he'd seen to his irrational and overwhelming desires.

He couldn't get through a single data-pad without his thoughts bringing up unbidden images from his dreams… and with the thoughts of Bumblebee passing his small nimble black digits over him or the weight of Jazz' head on his shoulder as he breathed into his audio came echoes from his sensor net… as if his body cried out for the touches he wasn't even feeling.

The incessant burning itch was driving him mad, he was sure of it.

Apparently it was also making his audio receptors glitch, because he didn't hear the mech who entered until they spoke.

"Something the matter Prowl?"

Prowl's optics onlined as his helm whipped up to find Optimus Prime standing before his desk with a bemused expression. He had locked his door and ignored any pings requesting entry, pretending he wasn't there, but Optimus knew all the override codes in the base… he was the one mech no one could shut out in the entire Ark other than Red Alert.

Prowl opened his mouth to say 'no'… but his vocaliser refused to sound the word.

He couldn't even find the wherewithal to formally greet his commander (who had entered in a rather informal manner anyway, he noted distractedly, as he hadn't bothered pinging).

Prowl tilted his helm down again and ventilated in a sigh. "Nothing I think you can help me with sir." he finally managed to murmur blankly.

"You don't look like you've recharged in about an orn. I don't have to get Ratchet to force you to take some leave again do I?"

Prowl's head shot up again, looking more alarmed than Optimus' statement warranted.

"No, no that won't be necessary." He replied quickly, trying to control his slightly alarmed tone to make it sound airy, but not really succeeding. The last thing he wanted was a visit from Ratchet… the medic was likely to shove a wrench somewhere unpleasant. Not that he felt he didn't deserve it…

He'd discouraged the red and white mech from finding him the first few joors that he had gone underground by hiding out with the Dinobots… he was one of the few mechs the simple-processored warriors allowed in their lair, but he hadn't really been able to get much work done there and so had returned to his quarters with the reasoning that no one expected him to be there now, and ignoring them if they came looking seemed to have worked… until now.

He was sure he wasn't imagining that tell-tale squint of the leaders' optics that meant he was smiling behind the battle mask.

Prowl gave a small static cough to clear his strained tone and said curtly and coolly "Was there something you needed sir?"

Optimus looked him over critically for a moment. "Only to see that you are alright. And it's clear to me you aren't."

Prowl gave him a politely puzzled look. "I'm not sure I see where your conclusion comes from sir."

It was clear from the look in his commanders… his _friends_ _'_ optics… that he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Hiding from the rest of the Ark members, lagging in work that has hardly ever given you such trouble before and not recharging properly would generally suggest that one was not completely alright. You know I'm not just your commanding officer Prowl. If there's something you need to get off your chest plate, I'm more than happy to help." Optimus' tone was gentle rather than pressing. All the same, Prowl felt a quiver of shame in his spark.

His door wings drooped in defeat and he looked hopelessly over the stacks of Data-pads still unsorted and littering his desk.

"…Thankyou Optimus. But I honestly don't think you can help me with this. I've dug myself a pit and I'm going to have to get myself out of it. I know if I don't then Ratchet will most likely haul me out and lock me in the med-bay anyway. No need to go there early and lose all opportunity to at least get some work done…"

Optimus surveyed him critically, seemingly deciding not to press the matter. It was clear to him his 2IC was struggling with something quite out of the ordinary for him, but he was confident that if Prowl said he could fix it himself, then he would. The tactician had too much drive to let anything affecting his work carry on for very long. However… a little push in the right direction probably wouldn't hurt…

"If you're absolutely sure. I'll let you get on with your work then."

"Thankyou sir." Prowl said with evident relief but an exhausted edge to his still composed tone.

"Oh, but might I suggest…" Optimus added as he reached the door, turning his face half to Prowl, who stared at him curiously.

"…I feel you might get more work done if you invested in a few orns locked in Jazz's quarters with him. My advice is to approach the difficulty around Bumblebee with Jazz in a manner you think he himself might go about it."

Optimus had a very hard time not bursting into laughter at the uncharacteristically horrified and embarrassed expression that crossed Prowl's faceplate as it went a bright cherry colour under his optics.

"…how…"

"Don't let those logic circuits freeze up on me Prowl. I've been around a long time… I've found out about many medical 'codes', and the one in your recent medical report is one I recognised. I think it would be unwise to allow things to continue on the way they have much longer. I need you functional, which means it's time you faced the issue. Just consider my advice… You need to stop dwelling on the worst case scenarios. Personally, I think it will pan out well." The commander said gently with a pleasant air.

All Prowl could do was gape. Optimus' optics narrowed in another unseen grin and he bade his 2IC goodbye as he left. Prowl could only nod very briefly in response. He was sure he heard the commanders rumbling chuckle as he walked down the hall from the closed door.

* * *

When Bumblebee onlined, it was very slowly. He wondered briefly what was wrong with him, because he was usually fast to reboot… but then of course his memory banks onlined and things became a little clearer.

A lot clearer than he wanted them to, actually.

Bumblebee gave a soft groan and his optics lit up dimly, slow to brighten. Everything felt sluggish to him… he supposed it was the after effect of the sensory stimulant in the twin's fine-grade.

He felt completely slagged…

Oh. Wait.

He pretty much had been.

Twice.

With another small moan at the incidents from last night he daren't recall right now, he curled a little closer to the warm chest plate at his back.

He was still on the Twin's berth, and Sideswipe still had his arms lazily around him like he was some sort of giant metal human 'teddy bear'. He had to admit the image was amusing.

Focusing on the form before him he realised Sunstreaker had scooted closer and thrown one of his black and gold arms over the both of them. Both Twins still seemed soundly in recharge.

Bumblebee, despite his nagging memory files, settled in and did not attempt to wake them or extricate himself.

He had to admit… he hadn't felt this comfortable or at peace in a long time. He savoured the brief moment, optics dimming placidly… but then his logic circuits began to analyse his situation in relation to his memories.

He remembered Prowl.

He remembered the reason the Twins had brought him here.

All the emotional pathways that followed the memories of the last orn or so.

What the slag had he been _thinking_ letting the twins do this? Of course they'd only been trying to make him feel better… pit, they probably didn't even know what a thrill Bumblebee had felt when he'd realised one of his wildest and most unlikely fantasies had become reality. _He_ still couldn't quite believe it. He was half expecting the two toughliners to online and wonder what the frag he was in their berth for. Everything was suddenly twice as complicated now…

_Oh Primus, what if they do what Prowl's doing? What if they're so embarrassed by me they…_

Bumblebee had to stifle a small whimper as he felt Sunstreaker begin to stir.

His systems whirred steadily as they booted up one by one.

The cerulean optics flickered online and took a moment to focus.

Bumblebee looked up apprehensively, expecting the exceptionally handsome features to fall into a disdainful frown when they landed on him… but instead a very sultry expression crossed the golden twin's features.

"Morning little spybot." he purred, moving the arm wrapped over the minibot and his brother and sliding a digit gently over one of the small yellow helm horns, mapping one of the shallow dents his denta had made several cycles ago.

Bumblebee couldn't help the whimper that escaped him this time. His sensors were rather edgy still. Sunstreaker stopped and gave him a small apologetic grin. "Wonder what the Hatchet will do to us if he finds out we made all those dents in you… and you were only in there yesterday… suppose you could always bunk down in here for a bit and we can get you when he's in a good mood."

"What, you want to keep me as a pet or something?" Bumblebee said bemusedly, silently overjoyed that he was not being rejected by the gorgeous golden twin.

The sound and feel of systems whirring into action behind him told Bumblebee that Sideswipe was coming around now too.

Sunstreaker smirked. "A pet that can do tricks like you? Slag yea."

Bumblebee couldn't help the crooked smile that spread across his faceplate.

"We're getting a pet now what?" Sideswipe slurred as his optics slowly brightened, first left, then right.

"Sunny likes my tricks." Bumblebee stated in amusement.

He felt Sideswipes arms draw him in a little with a comforting pressure. "Yea, I bet he does. You'll have to show me some of them sometime." he purred in Bumblebee's audio before giving it a flick with his glossa.

Bumblebee squirmed a little in response, but he was smiling.

"Hmm. I didn't think we got _that_ slagged last night…" Sunstreaker said distractedly with a slight thoughtful frown.

"We didn't. Well, _we_ didn't, I dunno about this little light weight… why, what's the time?" said Sideswipe, not bothering to check his internal chronometer seeing as Sunstreaker had already done so with his.

"0400 Kliks"

"Slag!" quipped Bumblebee, suddenly squirming little more fervently.

Sideswipe released him and sat up, stretching languidly. "What's up? You have a shift or something?"

"Yes and it started half a cycle ago! Oh Primus I'm going to be in trouble." Bumblebee lamented, looking down at himself in horror as he perched on the edge of the berth.

_He couldn't leave looking like that! What on Cybertron would everyone think if he turned up covered in dents and huge paint scrapes and… Primus he still had dried-_

"Calm down Bee. What shift did you have?" Sideswipe asked with lazy unconcern as he appraised Bumblebee's marked chassis with a somewhat satisfied half-grin.

Red was a good colour on him.

"I had a special patrol detail with Mirage, we were supposed to be installing some early detection equipment a little further out from the Ark for Red Alert, Red's going to have a _fit_ if we don't do it today, he's been waiting a whole orn for the two of us to have an adjoining shift to do it."

"Go use our shower racks. There's special solvent in there, second shelf, should remove those marks quickly." Sunstreaker instructed him with a nudge.

Bumblebee gave him an exceptionally grateful look and hurried into the shower racks.

He started up the spray of already solvent laden water and found the large bottle Sunstreaker had referred to.

"So why's it gotta be you and Mirage? Or is it one of those confidential espionage things you can't talk about?" Sunstreaker asked as he lounged against the doorframe casually as Bumblebee grabbed the cloth the golden twin threw him to wash with.

"No, it's not confidential. Well, not to Autobots. We don't want the Decepticons knowing we're installing it though, or that would defeat the purpose, they'd just blow it to slag if they knew we put it there, it's not going to be within a defendable range. We need Mirage for cloaking. It takes less out of him to cover a minibot with his electro-disruptor than say, Wheeljack, and I'm the most used to installing things fast and competently, so it really needs to be us if we want to do it properly… uh, why are you laughing?" Bumblebee trailed off, somewhat bemused as Sunstreaker snickered for apparently no reason.

"Wheeljack. I just remembered he's on your list." The toughliner explained with a smirk, dark blue optics glimmering with their usual mischief.

Bumblebee gave him a silly grin as he tried to reach a paint mark he could just see over the back of one shoulder.

Wordlessly, Sunstreaker stepped forward into the stream of water, taking the cloth from him and efficiently, he removed all the gold and red paint from Bumblebee's back, making the minibot's engine purr gratefully.

Bumblebee gave a squeak as the gold servo and cloth moved down to his aft, rubbing away paint before giving it a light smack.

"Don't molest him Sunny, not before his shift, save it for later. I've called in that you're running late because we kept you up last night and you over-defragged 'cause you were still off-kilter from the casseticon incident." Sideswipe explained, taking up Sunstreaker's previous stance leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed languidly over his yellow streaked red chassis.

"Oh… w-what did they say to that?" Bumblebee asked a little apprehensively, trying to ignore the way Sunstreaker was rubbing dried fluids from the inside of his thigh plating.

Sideswipe smirked as he watched the minibot fight the effects of his brother's ministrations once again.

He strode over and smacked the cloth from the golden servo, handing it back to Bumblebee while Sunstreaker frowned and straightened.

"You keep revving him up and he won't be able to concentrate for the rest of the day." Sideswipe said with amusement.

"So? He's my pet, I can rev him all I like." Sunstreaker pouted, making Bumblebee giggle as he finished cleaning off the last few scuffs of gold and red, checking himself over one last time before turning off the water and accepting the towel the size of a human bed sheet from Sideswipe.

"They seemed to buy it. Id' say they're more likely to believe the lie than the truth actually." Sideswipe mused.

"Yea… and 'Raj knows I was with you guys last night too, I remember we passed him and Tracks in the corridor when Sunny kidnapped me… probably why he didn't ping me when I didn't show up for the shift." Bumblebee muttered, more to himself than the twins. When he was finished with the towel, Sunstreaker took it from him to dry himself and gave him another grope on the aft, eliciting a small yelp and blushing giggled admonishment from the minibot as he thanked them for their help and left.

"Why do you do that?" Sideswipe asked frowning as the door to their quarters closed behind the retreating spy.

"'Cause he has a cute aft and gives good reactions-"

"No, not that! How come you let _him_ call you 'Sunny' without even scowling… you look like you want to stick one of Hatchet's wrenches up the tailpipe of anyone else who does it, including me." the red toughliner almost pouted, arms still crossed over his chassis.

Sunstreaker shrugged. "I dunno. It's kind of a turn on when he says it."

Sideswipe gave his brother a wide optic'd stare of slight amazement before shaking his head and going into the wash racks to fix his own paint for his upcoming monitor shift. Not that he would have minded proudly displaying the impressive marks the minibot had left on him, but he doubted very much that Bumblebee would appreciate him running around advertising that particular shade of yellow… no doubt there was more than one Ark member that might either tease the minibot senseless or, in his defence, tear chunks out of the twins for soiling the most innocent personality on the ship.

Sideswipe smirked to himself as he started up the water and grabbed the solvent.

_Innocent! HA! Oh if only they knew the devious little bed Bee… I bet NO ONE else on this ship knows about HIM…_

* * *

As Bumblebee hurried down the corridor, he became aware that he was not entirely alone, even though he couldn't actually see or hear anyone around.

Oh dear. That could only be one bot.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't have taken you for _their_ type." said an exceptionally amused and somewhat aloof voice as Mirage appeared not so unexpectedly from mid-air, falling into step with his small fellow espionage agent.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate heat slightly and didn't look Mirage in the optics.

"Heh, hey Mirage. Sorry about this morning, the Twins decided to give me a taste of their secret stash last night, and you know how much of a light-weight I am…" the yellow beetle apologised meekly as they continued towards the Ark entrance together to set off immediately for their task.

"I'd say they gave you more than just a taste of their high-grade…" Mirage trailed off knowingly.

Bumblebee knew that tone in the former noble-mech.

He looked up at Mirage with some shock and disbelief. "What do you mean? If you've been spying on me 'Raj-"

The blue and white F1 couldn't help but laugh at the pouty expression crossing Bumblebee's face. The minibot wasn't good at looking indignant in any way that a bot could take him seriously, but he wouldn't torture his friend any longer.

"No, Bee, it don't need to spy on you to know what happened. Actually it was something of a coincidence. Half a cycle or so after seeing Sunstreaker carrying you off, I ran into Trailbreaker. Apparently he couldn't get to the Twins to throttle them for their prank because they were too busy interfacing with _someone_. I merely put two and two together…"

Bumblebee felt his faceplate glow brightly at his fellow's revelation. Mirage merely continued to look at him with appraising amusement. "…but don't worry, he assumed it was Bluestreak."

"I know, he yelled it through the door…'Raj… you won't-"

"Of course not. Though I must say… even though I'm not sure you had much say in the matter, a good session with those two does seem to have brightened your mood somewhat."

Bumblebee gave a sideways glance at the wide grin plastered on the noble's features and couldn't help the small smile creep onto his own faceplate, despite the fact it was already a bright cherry colour.

"Yea… they're good at… that…" He muttered, and the F1 chuckled even louder.

"I can't say I envy you though, I don't think Ratchet will be much pleased with those dents." Mirage added as they reached the entrance.

Bumblebee gave a stifled noise of agreement. "I think I may have to make a trip to the sparring room when we get back… more for the Twin's sake than mine. I can only imagine what he'd do to them if he found out _they_ gave them to me, never mind _how_ …"

Even as they transformed, Bumblebee could hear the blue and white spy's engine revving along with his loud laughter.

* * *

"So… what _were_ they like?"

Bumblebee was wondering how on earth he was fielding that sort of question so much recently.

He gave an exasperated buzz through his vents, stopping his work on installing the detection device.

"Oh not this again! Why can't I keep that sort of thing to myself?"

He gave the larger mech a sideways glance to find suspicious optics on him.

"Not this _again_?" Mirage re-iterated curiously.

Bumblebee could have slapped his servo to his faceplate.

Him and his big mouth!

"I thought you'd let it go before. Really though 'Raj, I thought you of all mechs would at least leave me with my dignity."

"I wouldn't call a night with the Lamborghini brothers undignified." Mirage replied serenely, trying to suppress another wide grin. Apparently Bumblebee had covered his fumble.

The minibot shook his helm, continuing his installation work.

"I will say this, I wouldn't have agreed to anything if Sideswipe wasn't there." Bumblebee muttered, not looking away from his work.

"I thought Sideswipe might have instigated it, why would he not have been there otherwise?" Mirage asked, perplexed.

Bumblebee felt the corner of his mouth twitching up in a wry smile, remembering the look on the golden twins face from that morning.

"Actually, Sunstreaker made the advance."

Bumblebee didn't have to look around to notice the slight increase in light from behind him that was Mirage's optics widening.

"Sunstreaker?… But… you're a minibot…. And he's… _Sunstreaker?_ "

It was Bumblebee's turn to laugh. It wasn't often that one could flabbergast the noble-mech, but the results were always amusing when you managed it.

"Yea… it was something that happened on our patrol yesterday. He said something about me fighting off cassetticons kind of made him take notice… and then he roped Sideswipe in and before I knew it they were kidnapping me and pushing high-grade into my hands. They were just trying to cheer me up."

"So why exactly did Sideswipe being there matter?" Mirage asked softly.

They were keeping their voices as low as possible through this conversation. Even though Mirage had activated his electro-disruptor, making them invisible to the world around them anyway, there was still a chance a Decepticon patrol or reconnaissance could pick them up if they made too much noise, and then they'd be in trouble…

"Well… Sunstreaker is… pretty _amazing_ , but he gets a bit… carried away. 'Sides pulls him into line."

Bumblebee explained, thinking of the denta marks in his left helm horn and wondering if the blue and white F1 had spotted them yet.

Mirage couldn't seem to find anything to say to Bumblebee's answer, and though he couldn't see the other spy's face, Bumblebee was sure he was grinning slyly at him.

"Oh… did Trailbreaker get that paint off?" Bumblebee asked suddenly, finding an excellent means of change-topic.

Mirage gave a stifled chuckle. "Yes… but not before Jazz got a visual record of the twin's 'masterpiece'. I must admit, Sunstreaker's brushwork is quite exquisite."

"I guess that's why he sounded so mad… he's not usually the type to blow up like that, but then they DID put a love heart on his head…" Bumblebee murmured with a grin to himself.

"And how exactly are you so privy to the details of their handiwork?" Mirage asked curiously.

"Well…um, I was sort of… there when they did it… but I didn't say anything about it because I was sort of pre-occupied at the time."

"Ah well… what Trailbreaker doesn't know won't hurt him. I don't think he would have expected you to be able to stop them if you wanted to anyway."

" _I_ wouldn't have expected them to myself. More likely they'd start a game of toss the minibot." Bumblebee admitted.

"Oh? What about now though… you don't perhaps have a little _influence_ with them after last night?" Mirage murmured slyly.

Bumblebee decided to keep any retorts about withholding interfaces from the twins to get his way to himself, as he wasn't sure he could do that simply because they'd just truss him up and tease him and he wasn't sure he'd object to it…

Reigning in his exceptionally runaway thoughts, he merely shook his helm. "I'm not Ratchet. I think those two really only respond to persuasion of the wrench throwing kind."

Mirage snickered as Bumblebee finished the installation process. "How's your E.D unit holding up?" Bumblebee asked distractedly as he made sure he had the frequency tuned just right.

"Still at 40% capacity remaining. I could cloak us all the way back to the Ark if I had to." Mirage said languidly, coolly and subtly boasting, though he'd never admit to doing any such thing.

"Right, well I think that's got it. I'd ping it and comm. Red Alert to see if it works, but I don't suppose we can, since the 'Cons might pick up the signals and investigate. We may have to come back out to re-tune it if we get all the way back to the Ark and find it isn't working." Bumblebee mused. Mirage gave a half sided shrug. Being a noble, it wasn't in his programming to make such ungainly motions as shrugs, but his now many vorns in the Autobot forces meant he couldn't help but pick up most of the habits of his crewmates… nonetheless his versions of the gestures were always a little awkward.

"I don't mind if I have to come out again. As long as I don't get caught around Jazz for too long. I'm not sure what's happening with him and Prowl, but I swear to Primus if Prowl doesn't show him some attention soon I'm going to lock them in a room together… at least I would if I could get my servos on Prowl, but he's even slipperier than me when he wants to be. I've no idea what's got him going to ground. Either way, Jazz has been doing a Bluestreak recently. Can't get away from him if he corners you." Mirage explained conversationally as they began the walk back to the highway where they would uncloak and drive back to the Ark.

"Oh. Yea, I noticed he was hiding. Didn't know Jazz was getting so antsy about it though." Bumblebee replied, trying to sound neutral.

He knew _exactly_ why the two were acting the way they were. And it was _his_ fault.

And if either Mirage or Ratchet did manage to lock the two Black and White officers in a room and Prowl ended up telling Jazz what the matter was, well then he'd _really_ be in the Pit. How could he tell Prowl he'd let the _Lambo Twins_ of all mechs take him to their berth, and after he had still been unable to fathom how he felt about Prowl (Perhaps he'd let them simply because he couldn't figure out how he felt about Prowl?). What would Jazz think of him?

The depth of the tangle he'd gotten himself into suddenly descended upon the minibot's meta and he nearly groaned out loud as he walked in Mirage's wake.

"You know, I never thought you'd be so… open about your activities, if you ever had any…" Mirage started tentatively.

Bumblebee shuttered his optics a little and a faint smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

"Neither did I. But then… I didn't think I'd ever be getting that sort of attention." Bumblebee admitted in a quiet voice.

Mirage glanced over his shoulder with a scrutinising look. He didn't say anything for a moment, as though weighing up whether to agree or disagree and gauging what would hurt his feelings less.

"Not to offend, but I don't think anyone thought _you_ were really up for a relationship. You're such a good friend to most of us, we wouldn't think to wonder if you wanted to go further, and you never made advances… that and there are your friends who bots are probably afraid to cross if they hurt you in any way." Mirage said with a slightly nervous laugh.

Bumblebee gave him an almost apologetic smile. "I know. Really, I'm just terrible at reading others when it comes to those kinds of feelings. I've had some rather… vehement, rejections, in the past. I decided to just keep my feelings to myself and let anyone who might have the same feelings approach me, but uh… I started to get the impression that no one else really _was_ seeing me in that way. And until yesterday I'm pretty sure they didn't." Bumblebee admitted wryly.

The blue and white F1 nodded in understanding.

Mirage was one of the few friends he had that he would actually discuss something like this with. Being a fellow espionage agent, he knew how to keep a secret. Apart from that, he had the programming of a noble, and as such was both highly intelligent and socially sensitive. A particularly CPU alive mech, and one Bumblebee could always count on for honest but never brutally phrased opinions.

Mirage had his face turned to watch where they were going, but from his next words Bumblebee could tell he had that sly smile on again.

"Of all the mechs to break your relationship curse, I still can't believe you snagged the Twins… Not to say you aren't deserving of their attention or anything, it's just the unlikeliness of the personality match. Of course I'm not going to say anything, but you _know_ the whole Ark would be in an absolute uproar if word got out."

"Oh yea… I know." Bumblebee muttered with a hollow laugh.

 _You don't know the half of it_ , he thought privately. _Hell if the Ark found out about the mechs that had fragged me in the last orn, I think half of their logic chips might get fried._

Bumblebee almost giggled. But then another wave of guilty anxiety swallowed the momentary euphoria of realising how popular a berth partner he had suddenly become.

Although, to be fair, the first interface had been necessary to save his life. The second (oh, and third ) HAD been voluntary.

Despite the warm bubble of happiness that arose in him when he thought of how wanted the twins made him feel, there was still that horrible nagging gloom around Prowl and the nervous anxiety around Jazz… it wasn't until they had reached the highway, transformed and were halfway back to the Ark that he realised why he still felt horrible about Prowl not talking to him…

_I MISS him… I like him, I like how he is, I like that side of him no one sees except Jazz, that side he showed me, I like the way he moves, and that voice, and the sounds he makes when his door-wings are stroked, and the way he twitches them when you surprise him… Oh Primus, I fell for him…. I fell for him and he doesn't want me and that's why it still hurts…_

Bumblebee fought the urge to come to a screeching halt and curl up into an unmoving ball at the side of the road as the realisation washed over him.

He couldn't stand being alone with his thoughts now that he knew what that horrible nagging guilt at the back of his processor was. He engaged Mirage in nonchalant banter the rest of the way back, and was glad for the task of going to the security mainframe to check with Red Alert that the installation was successful, as it kept his processor distracted.

Apparently, everything was working brilliantly, and ascertaining that Red Alert didn't need them for anything else, the two were left with a whole half a cycle of their shift left and nothing to do.

Mirage and Bumblebee had just walked out of the monitor control room when Wheeljack came past.

"Hey you two! You're back early, how'd the installation go?" he greeted them with his usual cheer, audio panels flashing brightly as he spoke.

"Smooth as Iacon energon. Bumblebee has become exceptionally efficient at technical installations." Replied Mirage with a wide grin.

"Of course he has, who do you think taught him?" Wheeljack replied with a wink, giving Bumblebee a gentle clap on the shoulder. Bumblebee was glad the smile on his faceplate was natural. Even if he felt absolutely horrible to realise he was slightly spark-broken, the engineer was one of his oldest friends, and he always managed to make him smile.

"I did learn from the best." Bumblebee admitted, winking right back at the Lancia.

"Hey, you guys wanna grab a cube? I'm on a break, and you're both off early-"

"I'd love to Wheeljack, but it's Hound's day off and I promised to meet him, he wants me to teach him one of the old tower games." Explained Mirage with polite regret.

"I'll come with you 'Jack, I haven't really got anywhere to be." Bumblebee said. He had been wondering, as they left the security room, if he should seek out the Twins and… well, he wasn't sure what he'd say to them, he just felt he had left them too quickly that morning.

But on the other servo, he had missed his morning ration, and realised he'd basically been riding the tail of last nights' overcharge in his energy reserves, which were now nearly depleted.

He and Wheeljack bid Mirage farewell as they went their separate ways down the corridor. Perhaps, Bumblebee thought as they walked in amiable silence towards the rec. room, he would figure out what exactly he should talk to them about next he saw them.

When he and Wheeljack settled at an empty table in the refectory, it was busy, but not full or particularly noisy. Amoung the mechs Bumblebee greeted with a wave were Smokescreen, Windcharger, Blaster, Cliffjumper and Huffer. He also spotted a clean but still surly looking Trailbreaker, and couldn't help the giggle that escaped him to remember last night…

"You heard about that then?" Wheeljack stated, following Bumblebee's gaze, audio panels glowing with amusement. Bumblebee nodded. Oh yes, he'd heard about it first hand from the disgruntled mech himself, not that Trailbreaker knew that, but still… it made him giggle again. Which felt both natural and strange, given the still miserable part of him was struggling over his processor with the brightened mood the Twins had bestowed on him.

"It's good ta see ya happy again Bumblebee. I was getting a bit worried with that funk you were in." Wheeljack said softly.

Bumblebee turned his aqua optics on the engineer with slight surprise. Wheeljack was looking back mildly, and Bumblebee could see the concern in his old friend's azure optics.

"Was I _that_ obvious?" Bumblebee asked sheepishly, his tone also quieting as he took a sip of nice, smooth, regular grade energon.

Wheeljack's optics narrowed from beneath in a tell-tale hidden grin. "It's a stark contrast when the ship's happiest mech suddenly becomes as gloomy as Gears."

"Oh Primus, I wasn't _that_ bad!" Bumblebee replied, making them both chuckle.

"No, that's true, you don't moan in whatever audio is closest to ya about what's botherin' you. But I get the feeling whatever _is_ botherin' you hasn't magically disappeared with your lifted spirits today."

Bumblebee bit his bottom lip slightly, staring at his cube as he traced a finger across it's surface distractedly.

He and Wheeljack had been friends since before the war, and Bumblebee had been the one to convince him to join the Autobots with him rather than remain neutral. Bumblebee was one of the few mechs that dared to venture into the inventor's lab while he worked, unafraid of the chance of explosions because he knew the sometimes careless engineer paid much more attention so as not to blow up others when they were in his lab.

Wheeljack had taught him a lot, and the inventor always seemed to enjoy his company. And after the vorns of supply runs they'd made back on Cybertron together, they had built an exceptionally strong bond of trust.

For this reason, Bumblebee wasn't able to lie to his friend.

"You know I'm all audios if you need someone to talk to 'Bee." Wheeljack pressed calmly.

Bumblebee ventilated a sigh and fidgeted with his cube a bit more before answering.

"I've been through some pretty weird stuff before 'Jack, I mean we all have but… I have the feeling Primus is laughing his aft off at me at the moment." Bumblebee said with a crooked grin, rubbing the back of his helm in a nervous gesture he'd picked up from his human friend Spike.

"Why would he do that?" Wheeljack asked curiously. This sort of talk was not something he usually got from Bumblebee… but then the yellow minibot's mood of late had been rather out of character, so he supposed the fact that his conversation was as well wasn't so surprising.

"…'Jack, you know that last battle, where I took a shot for Prowl and we got stuck in those tunnels for a few cycles?"

"Yea… scared the spark outta me doin' that yanoe, Ratchet told me how close that fraggin' virus came to, well… I was worried this was about that, anyway." Wheeljack admitted, audio panels flashing orange with concern.

A small, appreciative smile tugged Bumblebee's mouth as he took an absent sip of his energon.

"Yea… the virus isn't what's bothering me. It's what they virus made Prowl do."

Bumblebee hovered on the edge of that sentence, wondering how far he was really willing to go with this confession…

He trusted Wheeljack, of course he did, but… this was so personal, and so slagging _stupid,_ not to mention embarrassing, and he didn't want to unload his problems onto his friend.

"Prowl? Did something else happen to him when he tried to override it to buy you time?"

Bumblebee shook his helm, an expression somewhere between shy embarrassment and sadness crossing his features.

"That's… not what actually happened."

Wheeljack tilted his helm to the side, glancing around them to see that no-one was eavesdropping on them. He had the feeling his long time friend was revealing something to him that an exceptionally small amount of mechs aboard the Ark knew about.

The engineer said nothing, letting Bumblebee tell him in his own time what the problem was.

"The virus I got hit with was some old one the 'Cons were recycling. They don't use it much anymore because they realised it wasn't off lining anyone. They don't seem to know why, but, uh… Prowl and I found out. Prowl had no choice, Ratchet pretty much ordered him, and I shouldn't be surprised, or feel so bad about it but…" Bumblebee stopped and aspirated. He had started to ramble as his emotions flared up again. But there was nothing for it now, he had alluded to the incident, and he was going to get it off his chest plate. There was nothing else for it. And really, he needed another's view of the situation so that he would stop over processing the whole thing in his meta.

"Ratchet ordered Prowl to interface with me, because that was the only way to fight the effects of the virus to keep me online long enough for Ratchet to get to us."

Whatever Wheeljack had been expecting, it wasn't that.

He stared in shock at his small yellow friend for a moment. Bumblebee was focussed nervously on his cube, but eventually those confused and unmistakeably hurt blue optics came up to meet his, and he snapped out of it.

"P-Prowl? He… he really?…wow Bee, I…um…well…was he good?"

Bumblebee gave him an even more pained look, but his exasperation was also tangible. "You're as bad as Ratchet, geez…"

Bumblebee looked away from his apologetic looking friend and rubbed one side of his helm distractedly, tracing a slight dent that one of Sunstreaker's digits had left there when Bee had overloaded him last night…

_Ugh, focus! Sorting through ONE frag at a time here…_

"That's the problem 'Jack, he… we… it started out as something he had to do, and then… I was sure there was something else, the way he acted, the things that were said, I… Primus 'Jack, I didn't even know it but I _fell_ for him… and I only realised that half a cycle ago." Bumblebee moaned, resting his faceplate in his palms.

A servo came to rest on his shoulder, giving it a sympathetic squeeze.

Still Wheeljack didn't speak. He could sense it was not the end of the minibot's confession. Although it was quite the shock to his processor already, but he found himself handling the new information better than he expected.

"…Prowl hasn't talked to me since I woke up in the medbay after Ratchet cleared me of the virus. And he's avoided me all orn."

"Well why the frag not? What's _his_ problem?" Wheeljack said, helm panels flashing orangey-red.

"Well, he didn't really have a choice in doing it in the first place… he may have gotten carried away in the heat of the moment, and I, like a fool, thought more of it than it was." Bumblebee mumbled morosely, head now resting on one palm as his other hand swirled his half empty cube listlessly.

"So what? He Can't even talk it over with you? Slagging coward, I oughta-"

Wheeljack cut himself short in his tirade as another mech entered the room and went straight over to Blaster where he was hanging out with the others.

"…Does Jazz know? I mean, everyone knows he and Prowl are, well, _involved_ … have you said anything to him?"

Bumblebee gave him an uneasy look and shook his head. "I think maybe Prowl has been putting off telling him, and I don't… really think I can do it myself. Jazz is a good friend, I don't want to say anything if Prowl hasn't managed to tell him, I don't want to wreck their relationship… more than I already have anyway." He muttered morosely.

"Now don't say that, you haven't wrecked anything. But I do see your problem. Well… I guess this explains why Ratchet's been even more crotchety than normal too… if Prowl doesn't get his servos out of his tailpipes soon I think I might have to put the twins up to setting some kinda trap to reel him in and… you don't seem to like that idea much…" Wheeljack trailed off, noticing Bumblebee's expression only became more pained and confused at the mention of his plan.

"Yea, well… Prowl's only the tail of the comet… you know how they say love makes you do crazy things?" Bumblebee said with a nervous quirk to his mouth.

Wheeljack nodded, not quite believing there could be even _more_ to this dilemma. But he was nothing if not thorough, and he had offered to help Bumblebee with his problems, so he would no matter how big and complicated they seemed to be…

"…I don't know how crazy on a scale of one to ten attacking the cassette brothers without provocation is… but I kinda… was mad at Prowl and they were there, and um…"

"You _what?_ I thought they jumped you and Sunstreaker on patrol or something and messed up your arm before he smashed them up, he even showed us a data-shot of his handiwork."

"Uh, about that, yea… that was my handiwork, I kinda sorta lied to Hound so I wouldn't look crazy, and Sunstreaker just… went along with it. I mean, _you_ know why I was mad now, so you won't think I was nuts to vent some steam on them, but to anyone else it would look like I randomly blew a circuit."

"Wow Bee… I mean I knew you could do some damage when ya get riled up but… man you really did a number on those two, and all you got was a messed up arm? You loosing your temper really seems like something to behold." Wheeljack said, unable to hide his admiration.

"Umm… Sunstreaker seemed to think so… he suddenly became very interested in me, and last night he enlisted Sideswipe to help 'cheer me up'."

"That doesn't usually bode well…" Wheeljack muttered, helm panels flashing an apprehensive teal.

"In any other circumstance, it would have been kinda touching. They decided I deserved some of their specially brewed stash." Bumblebee mumbled, voice dropping as he mentioned the contraband he had partaken in.

Wheeljack gave a knowing chuckle, panels flashing pink. "Primus, that stuff knocks ME on MY aft, what on Cybertron did it do to you?"

"Apparently made me forget my issues with Prowl enough to frag the Twins."

Dead, shocked silence met Bumblebee's latest revelation, and he was worried for an astrosecond that he had frozen Wheeljack's processor.

The wide blue optics shuttered a few times before Wheeljack replied in a voice of barely quieted astonishment " _You WHAT?_ "

"I kinda… let them Interface with me… it was Sunny that wanted to, he said he was impressed by what I did to the cassetticons. He didn't know I had it in me, _I_ didn't know I had it in me, and I guess he… kinda found my random outburst a bit of… a turn-on, or… something." Bumblebee trailed off as his faceplate heated with utter embarrassment.

"The fact that I'm guessing they were like nothing on earth aside, I see how this might complicate things… wait , they aren't doing the same thing to you that _Prowl_ is are they?" Wheeljack asked, sounding like he had half a mind to find and beat the slag out of them.

Bumblebee appreciated his friend's protectiveness on his behalf, but he shook his helm quickly.

"Oh no, quite the opposite… I've managed to make myself their favourite 'pet'. I haven't seen them since Mirage and I got back but, my guess is they won't leave me alone once they find me. I remember what they were like when they first took a liking to Bluestreak. I mean, they're still with him, but not as clingy or possessive. While it's kinda nice to think they'd be like that with me, it's also a massive problem if Prowl finds out… not to mention I can't change the fact I _still_ like him in that way… and Jazz too, what will he think of me? I already feel like some kind of… _floozy_ , this isn't like me 'Jack! How in the pit did I get into this? Me! A mech who two orns ago wasn't on the top of anyone's list in the relationship stakes… I don't know _what_ I'm going to do about all this."

Wheeljack too seemed at a loss for an answer as he mulled over the considerable pickle his small yellow friend had found himself in, the only comfort he could give was a gentle pat to the minibot's shoulder.

"Well… if we look on the bright side, you're more popular than you've ever been now… and you got 'faced by some of the best looking mechs on the Ark, ( "'Jack!" Bumblebee's faceplate heated even more, but his friend paid him no heed ) also a plus. You beat the slag out of two 'Cons who'll probably think twice next time they try to attack you, and if Jazz finds out how Prowl's treated you after you saved his fraggin' skid-plate, I'm willing to bet, feelings about your 'facing the twins aside, he just might take chunks outta Prowl, and that's something I wouldn't mind seeing personally."

"What wouldn'tcha mind seein' 'Jack?" said a voice as a black and white visored mech practically bounced over to them and sat down.

Bumblebee looked up, startled. Jazz didn't usually jump into conversations that seemed serious or private, but then Bumblebee had had his back to him, and Wheeljack had looked rather cheery while listing off the apparent perks of Bumblebee's situation, so he supposed it mightn't have looked like anything more than flippant chatter.

Bumblebee's optics shot warily to Wheeljack, who gave him a reassuring glance that he wouldn't spill anything to Jazz.

"You tearin' strips outta Prowl." The engineer said casually, sipping his energon through the small gap he opened in his battle-mask.

Jazz's curiosity was instantly peaked by the nonchalant yet odd statement.

"N' why would I do that?" he said with a bemused smile.

"Well he's been hidin' from ya hasn't he? The Mech doesn't know how to pull himself away from his work to give his social life some attention!" Wheeljack stated, easily hiding how truly disgruntled he was with the 2IC.

"Aw he ain't that bad. He's probably waitn' fer me to go lookin' for him. That seems like the sorta game that underhanded slagger would play." Jazz chuckled affectionately. "Anyway, you're not one to talk about bein' too wrapped up in work Wheeljack. How many times this decacycle has Ratchet or Perceptor had ta drag ya outta yer lab to refuel cause you've forgotten huh?"

Wheeljack's helm panels flashed an indignant pink. "Only ONCE I'll have you know, I'm not THAT bad!"

Bumblebee couldn't stifle his slight snicker.

Wheeljack gave him a good natured glare.

"I see you've perked up a bit today Bumblebee. Not a lotta mechs who can do that after a taste o' the twins stash." Jazz said, turning his optics on the minibot and giving him a cheeky smirk.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate heat a little again, completely flustered. "H-how do you know about-"

But Bumblebee's tension dispersed slightly when Jazz laughed. "Mirage told me it was why ya were late for ya shift today. Gotta say, I'm kinda proud of 'em for bein' so nice n' tryin' to cheer ya up. I'm guessin' it was yer first time with it tho huh?"

Bee nodded sheepishly. "If I'm smart, it'll be my last too."

Jazz and Wheeljack both chuckled, but their laughter was cut short by a loud and rather unexpected voice.

"JAZZ! BUMBLEBEE! MY OFFICE, NOW."

Every head in the room turned to the black and white form who had appeared in the doorway.

Prowl's face was as impassive as ever, his stance and tone both as official and authoritative as possible. No one said a word, even though a few of them shot Jazz and Bumblebee questioning looks.

While Jazz wore a bemused look, Bumblebee was downright shocked. Even Wheeljack was too stunned at the 2IC's appearance and demeanour to even contemplate going with them to give the Tactician a piece of his mind on Bumblebee's behalf.

As it was, Jazz and Bumblebee exchanged confused, slightly stunned looks before silently obeying.

It was clear others in the room, like Wheeljack, had noticed Prowl's recent absence and found this fresh appearance somewhat alarming. But none of them, given the Datsun's tone, would be investigating the matter any time soon.

Bumblebee flashed Wheeljack an apprehensive look as Prowl turned and stalked out into the corridor again, then he fell into step with Jazz. All Wheeljack could do was give him a weak wave. He wasn't sure what was prompting Prowl's tone, but given the information Bumblebee had just revealed to him… it really didn't make much sense.

As they walked down the orange halls of the ship behind an exceptionally stiff-backed Prowl, neither Jazz nor Bumblebee spoke.

Jazz seemed relaxed if not slightly confused. Bumblebee, on the other hand… found his processor fritzing with worry. What on earth had HE done to incur Prowl's wrath greatly enough to pull him out of hiding? Horrible realisations came to mind… really, he had done a number of things in the past few joors that could warrant a reprimanding. What if Prowl had found out about the Cassettes? What if Prowl had found out about him being late because of the Twins (which would of course lead him to the conclusion that their contraband was involved, which would get THEM in trouble too, if they weren't already). Primus what if he knew what _else_ he'd done with the Twins… but still that made no sense, if he didn't care about him, why would he be mad about that?

He wondered briefly what Jazz could have done to also be incurring the Datsun's wrath… but then it could be any number of things, given that Jazz was prone to pulling pranks of his own, even if he was much more subtle than the twins. He didn't look like he knew though… he didn't have his guilty smile on, but then he could be playing innocent and pretending like he didn't know. Bumblebee couldn't stand the tension of the silence any longer.

 **Do you have any clue what he's mad at us for?** Bumblebee comm.'d his superior.

Jazz gave a light shrug.

**I dunno what he's got you in for, I can only think he found out I gave 'Sides that pink paint when he had all his paints confiscated the other joor…**

**You what! Does Trailbreaker know that?** Bumblebee gave him a stunned, sideways glance.

A devilish smile curled the corner of his mouth. **'Course not. If he did, how would I have gotten a data-shot of Sunny 'n 'Sides masterpiece? More important question is what did** _ **you**_ **do ta get him peeved?**

It was Bumblebee's turn to shrug. **Maybe he found out why I missed half a cycle of my shift.**

 **Naw, he wouldn't be this mad over that. 'Specially since ya got the job done quick anyway, an' he's more likely to haul the twins in fer getting ya over-charged.** Jazz said, faceplate contemplative.

All Bumblebee could give in way of response was another shrug as they came up behind Prowl, who had halted at the door to his office and was keying in the code.

Bumblebee wasn't sure if reaching their destination was good or bad. On the one servo he didn't have to field Jazz's queries as to what he'd done to land him there, but on the other servo… well, he was about to find out, and probably not in a pleasant way…

* * *

Prowl had considered Optimus Prime's advice very seriously.

He had recommended he approach the situation as if he were Jazz… Prowl found it a little hard to work this way, as Jazz worked in a manner quite opposite to him. Where he went on logic and projected plans and strategies, Jazz could be wildly unpredictable. Trying to make a plan following the logic of wild unpredictability was a little harder than Prowl thought it might be.

He had paced his office, tapping his favourite stylus against his bottom lip, other hand behind his back, clenching and unclenching his fist as his door-wings twitched.

He was distracted from his in depth attempt at figuring out how to logically deconstruct unpredictability by a strong surge of heat through his circuits, causing him to take a gasping ventilation and stop his pacing.

He offlined his optics in irritation, but the moment he did the image of Jazz popped right into his meta, smiling in an all too seductive manner.

 _Look at'cha Prowler. Ya try too hard ta figure out the simplest things. When are you gonna learn to just go with the flow!_ His mind Jazz said in that seductively husky voice.

Prowl bit his lip. Perhaps he _would_ have more luck figuring out how Jazz would do this if he stopped trying to think _like_ Jazz and just went on what he knew of his lovers' personally… which was a considerable amount.

His mind Jazz smirked in an exceptionally suggestive way, as though pleased he had finally seen sense, and all of a sudden an unbidden image popped into his CPU that made him online his optics in a mix of heated shock and guilty desire. _No… I couldn't possibly…_

But it was a eureka moment… he knew it… it was _exactly_ the sort of thing Jazz would do, even though he was impossible to logically predict, Prowl just _knew…_

Prowl was resolved. With the hard part figured out, it was much easier to plan how he was going to get them both there, and how to keep the whole affair unknown to the rest of the Ark.

He comm.'d Red Alert to find Jazz and Bumblebee's location, and was glad to be informed that they were both in the same place.

He was especially thankful, as he opened his door and set off down the corridor with another wave of anticipative heat washing over his circuits, that his office was soundproof.

Prowl played his part well, he thought. From the looks of shock and tentative uncertainty he received from every mech in the rec. room, including Jazz himself, he was sure none of them would come anywhere near his office for the next few cycles. Not that anyone liked to go there in the first place unless they had to, but extra incentive couldn't hurt.

He did feel a sharp pang of guilt when he saw Bumblebee's almost fearful expression, but he didn't show it. He couldn't afford to. He just hoped the minibot wouldn't react adversely when he carried out his 'operation Jazz' on him. But then this was a risk he had to take, because Jazz would take it, no matter the possible consequences, he knew it in his spark.

Apart from that, the very thought of it made him walk stiffly as his circuits surged with uncomfortable tingles through his over-eager sensor net.

Even though the two mechs following him were silent, Prowl knew they were talking through their comm. links. They were probably trying to figure out why he was so fragged off at them. Prowl allowed himself a small smirk. Oh, if only they knew… chances were they thought he was hauling them in for a prank. Oh he had no doubt _Jazz_ had something to do with the Trailbreaker incident last joor, but frankly, he didn't give a damn. He knew he should, and once he'd sorted out his personal life he probably would, but right now, he had more important things to be concentrating on.

They walked into the office, Jazz and Bumblebee first, followed by the still stony faced Prowl, who closed and locked the door behind them.

Jazz stood at ease against the far wall, while Bumblebee stood to attention before Prowl's desk as a subordinate must when called in by an officer… especially when the officer seemed _that_ fragged off.

Prowl stalked to stand before his desk, turning to face Bumblebee, but his optics were on the floor, an impassive, contemplative look on his face.

Jazz watched him almost curiously. He wasn't himself, that much was clear. There was a tension in his door-wings Jazz hadn't seen in vorns. It was almost as if he was holding something back, unsure whether or not he should say or do whatever it was he was about to…

Bumblebee couldn't figure out how he felt. He stared at the Autobot symbol on Prowl's chassis. He wouldn't have been able to look him in the optic, even if the tacticians' attention wasn't fixed on the floor.

He was simultaneously angry and extremely nervous. He wanted to yell at Prowl for all the trouble he'd caused him by avoiding him… but then he hadn't tried to seek him out and force him to talk, so he was as much a coward… and then of course he didn't want to yell at Prowl, and he didn't want Prowl to yell at him, because he _liked_ him, and Prowl wasn't likely to like him back in any way, shape or form if he went and blew a gasket.

The tense silence stretched on for a breem, with Jazz looking curiously between The Datsun and the Beetle, not wanting to interrupt whatever silent internal struggle either seemed to be having. He knew somehow that he was a third party to whatever this situation was.

Eventually, Bumblebee couldn't stand it anymore.

"Look, s-sir I… I don't know what I've done wrong bu-"

"Nothing."

Bumblebee shuttered his optics a few times.

"W-what?" he replied meekly.

"You haven't done anything wrong." Prowl replied softly, his optics flickering up and… he actually bit his lip…

Bumblebee's mouth was hanging open.

"But… you… I thought you were-"

"I'm sorry. Both of you. It's time I made up for my mistakes."

Bumblebee wasn't quite sure what happened next.

It both seemed to go in slow motion and fast forward, but suddenly he was aware that Prowl had stepped up, taken his helm in both hands and pressed his lips into Bumblebee's own in a restrained yet searing kiss.

Prowl almost wished he'd set up a camera in his office. He couldn't see Jazz's face, but he was sure his expression was priceless.

He feared, for a terrifying astrosecond, that Bumblebee would push him away in disgust. The minibot stiffened and remained unresponsive for a few nano-kliks… and then, sweet relief flooded Prowl's singing spark as the small, silver mouth pressed right back against him, small hands resting tentatively on his bumper.

The kiss held such an insistent apology that Bumblebee couldn't help but accept it. His processor went blank… he didn't bother trying to figure this out, he might crash if he did, he decided instead to enjoy it… and oh, he hadn't realised how he'd missed those smooth, gentle lips.

It was several astroseconds before Bumblebee remembered of course, that they were not alone.

He pulled back from Prowl, but didn't remove his hands, which had somehow come to rest on the Datsun's hood. He stared into Prowls optics, a mix of shock and confusion on his faceplate, lips slightly parted and tingling still.

Prowl looked back almost sheepishly.

"Wow… that was quite an apology." Jazz stated lightly, his expression somewhere between shock and… amusement.

Prowl turned his bowed helm with a sigh of his vents, looking guiltily over at his lover.

"I'm sorry Jazz… I have a lot of explaining to do."

"I hope your gonna keep using examples in yer explanation." Jazz said, the corner of his mouth curling up in unsuppressed glee and… though only Prowl recognised the emotion… arousal.

Bumblebee let out his own aspiration of relief. He was still too confused to say anything. So he allowed Prowl to steer him into a chair, where he sat staring blankly at the 2IC. He couldn't quite find the nerves to look at Jazz yet, though he didn't seem angry…

"Jazz, you remember the incident with me and Bumblebee in the last battle… I know you read the medical report. It was coded." Prowl launched into what sounded like a well rehearsed explanation.

Jazz tilted his head, coming over to stand closer to the two, still looking between them curiously.

"Yea. Ya did somethin' stupid. But I'm glad you did or we'da lost my favourite minibot."

"Yes well I did do that, but not by the method you think I did." Prowl said a little hurriedly.

"Oh?" was all Jazz had in way of a response, face politely puzzled.

"The Decepticons used an old virus in their attempted attack. One they ceased using previously because it proved ineffective. At least, whenever the victim was in the company of another Autobot. The effects include slowing of heating systems and shorting of minor systems in a slow and painful attack-"

Jazz's visor suddenly glowed bright in apparent understanding.

"You're telling me it was the LOVE-BUG?"

There was a moment of silence between the three before Jazz burst out laughing and doubled over, slapping his knee.

Prowl and Bumblebee shared a glance before Jazz recovered his coherency.

"So, doezat mean… Ratchet ordered ya to… he did, didn't he? Ya had to Interface with Bee to keep his core temp up and short the virus didn't cha? Oh man, I heard stories about that virus, but…. _slag._ "

Prowl shuttered his optics at Jazz before he let out a very relieved sounding "Yes."

Jazz looked between them again, rapidly processing all that had happened since the incident, and dawning comprehension bloomed upon his faceplate.

"Aw Prowler… don't tell me it took ya all this time to talk ta Bee about it? Ya had him mopin' so much the Twins even tried to cheer him up!"

Prowl had the good grace to look ashamed.

"I truly am sorry Bumblebee… I wanted to speak with you. I thought it best to tell Jazz what had happened first, but I couldn't seem to find the best means to broach the subject, and I continued to put it off… before I knew it, joors had passed and I… was, afraid of how _both_ of you might feel. I hadn't figured out how to tell you Jazz, and the longer I left it the more ashamed I felt about avoiding you Bumblebee… the truth is I was afraid, because I'm terribly fond of both of you, and the thought that you both might turn me down for my actions… and I know you are both good friends as it is, I didn't want to ruin that-"

"Aaaaw, Prowler, I thought ya knew me better n that!" Jazz teased, but his tone was soft and gaze affectionate.

"So… you _do…_ like me that way?" Bumblebee asked tentatively, his servos fidgeting nervously in his lap.

Prowl gave him a slightly surprised look.

"Of course. I know I have acted like a complete fool towards you, but my feelings are as I said they were when we were waiting for the rescue party."

There was such sincerity in the soft blue optics that Bumblebee felt he might float off his chair with the swelling bubble of happiness inside him.

A wide, mischievous grin crept onto Jazz's faceplate, his visor glowing a little darker.

"Well, Bee, looks like it's official. I better welcome ya to the relationship!"

And within a few strides, the Porsche had crossed to the chair Bumblebee sat in, took the minibot's faceplate gently in his hands as Prowl had and pressed a passionate kiss upon his lips.

Bumblebee wasn't quite sure how he should react… so he simply went with and enjoyed it, as he done with Prowl's surprise kiss.

Jazz was… different. In a way he couldn't quite pinpoint. He couldn't say he'd never imagined doing this with his superior… Jazz was naturally passionate, but none of Bumblebee's curious musings on what this might feel like quite compared.

He pressed back tentatively, smiling slightly when Jazz flicked his bottom lip with his glossa.

Bumblebee was overcome with a slightly reckless urge as the words 'welcome to the relationship' sunk into his CPU.

He slipped his glossa out and unashamedly ran it across Jazz's top lip. Jazz let out a small surprised yet appreciative noise before they broke apart.

Jazz grinned at him and he grinned right back.

"Never thought ya'd be into that with me Bee…" He admitted almost shyly.

Bee felt his faceplate heat a little. "I kinda thought the same thing." Bumblebee admitted, and they both tried to suppress silly little giggles, feeling like younglings.

Jazz's attention then settled on Prowl again, who had become strangely stiff… Bumblebee realised he was shaking.

A look of understanding slipped across Jazz's features and a devious smirk quirked his features.

"Ooooh Prowler… I guess my present probably didn't help ya huh? I'm surprised ya lasted so long. Guess we better fix that for ya. You up for helping' me help Prowler relax Bee?" Jazz purred, looking slyly over at his yellow companion.

Bee gave him and Prowl a curious look.

"I… suppose you should explain… seeing as he's going to find out anyway now everything is out in the open-NNNNNNNnnnnn…"

Prowl let out a delicious noise as Jazz sauntered over and ran a digit across the edge of one of his door-wings, making prowl's whole frame quiver.

Bumblebee followed, wrapping his arms around Prowl's waist and playing his fingers over a seam in his side armour.

Bumblebee directed a questioning look at Jazz, who smirked, still teasing a finger over the edge of one of the black and white doors.

"Well, ya see, Prowl's got this funny little glitch of sorts, when it comes ta interfacing. He doesn't do it if he hasn't fixed his schedule to give him extra free time with me. 'Cause when he starts, he can't stop for a while…" Jazz explained, trying very hard not to laugh. The mirth in his voice made Prowl's faceplate burn bright orange. Well… his words _and_ his ministrations, as he began to trace patterns across the sensory appendages in his grasp.

Prowl would have said something about Jazz not making him out to be some 'facing crazed maniac, but all he could do was whine slightly at the feeling of his heat induced fantasies coming true as he struggled to remain standing there.

Jazz, it seemed, hadn't finished his explanation though.

"Usually I can keep him satisfied… seems like he wasn't prepared for an interface out of the blue with somebot who wasn't me… 'course, Prowler bein' Prowler, wouldn't come ta me for a 'face without spillin' the beans about you two, n seein' as he couldn't figure out how ta do that, _and_ he's too stubborn to please himself… he's gotten himself all hot n bothered. Can't say I mind though… I do _love_ seein' him like this."

Bumblebee smiled slyly enough to match Jazz. He had to admit, he was enjoying Prowl's unchecked expressions of rapture quite as much as the Porsche was.

Bumblebee slid one of his small digits up Prowl's midriff plating and slipped it under his Bumper, finding the sensor node buried in the wiring there that he had found the first time. He had to admit, this was so much better given he wasn't fighting the effects of a virus.

At the same time as he teased under Prowl's chest plate, Jazz slipped his digits into one of the door-wing hinges, and with a quivering moan, the Datsun sank to the floor, the other two following him down with identical grins.

"I don't… deserve this." Prowl gasped helplessly as Bumblebee teased as many wires beneath his hood as he could find. Jazz reached a servo over Prowl's shoulder, capturing his chin and turning his helm to claim a kiss. Bumblebee felt a warm tingle go through him to see it. Everyone knew the two were together… but they never kissed in public. The rare sight however, was the epitome of affection. An action it was clear both knew well, practiced and familiar, but still so passionate.

"Ah love, who says we're doin' it for you? Consider this your _punishment_." Jazz said huskily when they broke apart, leaning their foreheads together, Jazz's expression quite devious as Prowl quivered.

Bumblebee caught his gaze and Jazz winked. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Prowl let out a mewl as Bumblebee's other hand dove into the seam between his leg and hip and Jazz's mouth latched onto his neck cables.

The black and white mech bucked and moaned as he was teased and caressed mercilessly, but he managed to snake his servos around the other two, one finding the gap In Bumblebee's side armour with the sensor node, the other reaching over his shoulder to take hold of one of Jazz's sensory horns on his helm.

Jazz moaned into Prowl's neck and gnawed the wires a little as those talented white digits played a symphony of pleasure over his sensitive helm appendage.

Bumblebee let out a loud mewl as digits were pressed firmly against a sensor node at his waist.

The two retaliated by doubling their efforts to draw noises from the tactician and make him squirm.

With the small digits of Bumblebee ghosting over his plating and slipping deep between his plates to caress normally untouched wires and even transformation cogs, as well as Jazz's expert touches to his door wings, teasing the tip of one and digging into the joints of the other in his back, Prowl barely stood a chance.

He couldn't mute his impassioned moans and cries of ecstasy. He refused to offline his optics, because he needed to keep reassuring himself that this was real and not one of his vivid dreams.

He clung tightly to the other two to further prove it to his buzzing processor.

Prowl had writhed and twitched, guided into a sitting position by the other two, Jazz cross legged behind him, Bumblebee to his right with a leg under one of his, keeping him from slipping down.

Bumblebee had an arm wrapped around his front, fingers exploring down his midriff and trailing his hip plating. His other servo played with some wires under the right side of his hood. Prowl gave a strangled cry as the minbot's glossa slipped out curiously to trace the nearest headlight.

Jazz removed his mouth from Prowl's neck cables and looked over the Datsun's shoulder to see what Bumblebee was doing.

"You're not bad for havin' only done this ta him once." Jazz praised him in a purr.

Bumblebee smiled slyly back. "Fast learner." he quipped between licks over the headlight glass, making Prowl shudder and arch in an exceptionally pleasing way. The Porsche gave a low chuckle. "Don't I know it."

Jazz took advantage of the arch of the tactician's wings, catching the edge of one that hovered near his mouth and nibbling, before drawing his glossa along it towards the tip.

Prowl let out a long, low moan.

Bumblebee had the feeling Jazz was leading Prowl towards overload, and he was more than happy to help him there. He wanted to see him let go… he remembered how careless, how free Prowl seemed in the throes of overload… how handsomely his features morphed from their usual impassive coolness to intense pleasure. The stark contrast gave Bumblebee a thrill.

He trailed his right servo down the line of Prowl's pelvis where it joined his leg, until he reached the panel that covered his interfacing circuitry. Bumblebee pressed his fingers together and pressed the tips forward down the heated piece of metal.

Prowl whimpered and bucked.

Jazz seemed to react very well to this, humming in delight as he drew his lips along the top edge of Prowl's other door-wing, teasing the joints with both hands.

Bumblebee continued to push his digits hard up and down Prowl's closed panel, feeling it heat so much it was almost unbearable to touch.

He worked Prowl into such a state that his engine was revving high and reverberating through the saboteur and spy, heating their own circuits as Prowl's cooling fans buzzed loudly. From the glazed, unfocused sheen to Prowl's optics, it was clear he was now incoherent with the sensations that Jazz and Bumblebee were sending across his over-sensitised haptic input array.

"Mmmmm, I kinda wondered sometimes… what it might be like tah see Prowl reactin' like this to somebody else… gotta admit I'm likin' it." Jazz purred over Prowl's shoulder again, one hand on a door wing, the other reaching around to softly stroke and rub one of Prowl's red chevron spikes.

Prowl let out another long moan, bucking into Bumblebee's hand again and throwing his head back.

Jazz kissed his helm with a smile and looked back over to a slightly blushing Bumblebee.

He had to admit, he'd never imagined receiving a compliment from his commanding officer and friend on how well he could rev up said friend's partner.

Jazz's mouth plates quirked as he planted gentle kisses down Prowl's neck.

"Go ahead… open him up, I wanna see what he looks like when you do it…"

"When I do what?" Bumblebee asked innocently, although he couldn't hide the slight breathlessness to his vocals.

Jazz's smirk widened as he lapped at a sensor buried in the junction between Prowl's neck and chassis, earning another delicious mewl from the writhing tactician.

"Overload him for me 'Bee." Jazz almost whispered.

Bee let a wide, sly smile spread over his faceplate as he traced his small digits over the outline of Prowl's panel, feeling slight traces of leaked lubricant.

Prowl gave a needy whine, having truly given up on all form of composure in the face of his burning desire.

"Yes sir." Bumblebee replied simply, as though accepting an order to clean his rifle.

This was his final payback. Both for Prowls initial ministrations during their first interface, and for the whole orn of self-doubt over the 2IC's feelings towards him. He slid down the black and white frame, climbing over Prowl's legs to rest between them.

If Bumblebee still had any doubts as to the Datsun's feelings, they would have been dispersed when Prowl moaned his name as Bumblebee pressed a particular spot on his codpiece and slid away the black panel.

Dark purple, semi-translucent lubricant trickled from the port Bumblebee had felt, but never seen. Prowl's cord was recessed, but straining the catches that kept it within it's protective encasing in Prowl's pelvic gimble.

Bumblebee wasn't cruel enough to tease the obviously pressurised and probably nearly painful cable, and instead pressed the two black release levers on either side, allowing the spike to slide out slowly on it's own, Prowl letting out a sound of relief.

Jazz seemed to have semi-hypnotised the tactician with his feather-light kisses across the white and black armour and the soft, tracing touches over the doors that flared out on either side of him.

Prowl was floating in a sea of contentment, lulled into a daze of beautiful, intoxicating sensations. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been rendered in such a blissful state… he knew he'd certainly never done so under the ministrations of _two_ mechs.

Oh but _Primus_ how could he have lived all his life-stream and never experienced anything like this?

He tried to focus in more on the touches, tried to concentrate on who was doing what. Doing so only made him register the pleasure more acutely.

Suddenly Bumblebee was between his legs and opening his panel. Had he heard Jazz ask the minibot to overload him? Oh _Primus_ but those little hands felt good… had he said Bumblebee's name outloud? He did it again without really thinking as the spy released his deliciously aching cord. He weakly scooted back against Jazz, his servos reaching back and grasping the familiar white plating of his lovers' thighs as Jazz uncrossed his legs and set them either side of Prowl.

He realised as he caught sight of the look on Bumblebees face that this really _was_ supposed to be a punishment… he read in the minibot's optics that he was about to get paid back for what he'd done to Bumblebee recently… _everything_ he'd done…

Prowl wasn't quite sure what he would do once Bumblebee did that… he was quickly losing control of himself as his heat consumed him in answer to the touches of those he had dreamed of…

"Nnn… _Jazz…_ " He breathed out tentatively, helm twisting to catch sight of the brilliant blue visor.

"Don't worry Prowler… this is gonna be fun…" the Porsche reassured him with a low, eager growl as he snaked his arms up under Prowl's, holding the front of his shoulder joints as Prowl dug his fingers into the white thighs, a tremor of anticipation running through him as he looked back to Bumblebee, Jazz mouthing along his neck and humming. "For us, anyway." the spy added with a snicker.

Bumblebee felt Prowl quiver as he seemed to regain some coherency once more. He almost found it funny that the 2IC seemed so apprehensive of him.

…Not that he was wrong to be.

Bumblebee stroked from the base of Prowl's cable to the spike at the end, slowly, lightly, teasingly, small digits twisting around the black and white sheathing as he went, before reversing the motion.

Prowl gasped, shuddered and moaned, head tilting back again but optics never leaving the deviously smiling yellow mech.

Bumblebee's other hand traced oh so lightly up under Prowl's port, getting lubricant on the tips of his fingers as it did, which he then smeared delicately around the edges of the valve entrance, feeling them contract and flex beneath his barely-there touch.

Prowl mewled and bucked, But Bumblebee pulled his hands back reflexively, not allowing any pressure upon Prowl's equipment, causing him to whimper needily.

Jazz made soft noises of pleasure as Prowl's reactively clutching servos sent tingles up his thighs.

He kept his optics trained on Bumblebee, on his beautiful, silver faceplates and skilled, nimble hands as they teased Prowls' cord in a way that made Jazz bite his bottom lip and hum appreciatively.

Wonder at how Prowl could have been so nervous and doubtful about revealing the incidents of the last orn aside, Jazz couldn't think of a better candidate for inclusion in their relationship.

Not that he had been feeling it was lacking or thought Prowl wasn't enough for him… but he felt Prowl was almost wasted on _him._ Such was the depth of the Datsun's passion, he felt it was almost a crime to be keeping that all to himself.

That, and he was an experimenter by nature. He had fantasized about pairing up with another who could enjoy working Prowl up like this… another to share his wonderment with, who would understand perfectly just how exquisite Prowl's love could be… few mechs saw past the 2IC responsibilities, or realised the endearing quirks of the mech himself… who was there to enjoy them with him?

And now by some fateful turn at the servo of Primus, _Prowl_ had been the one to find another who he could share his appreciation of the tactician with… and it was a mech he himself already appreciated fully… even if it wasn't perhaps who he might have ever expected.

It didn't matter in the least. Jazz massaged the white shoulder plating under his servos, running his glossa over the grey neck cables as Prowl mewled.

Jazz quieted his lover's bucks a little as Bumblebee continued to dance his digits lightly over Prowl's cord sheathing, thumb brushing the tip of his spike, other hand tracing the opening of his port.

Prowl couldn't stand the ghosting caresses… his cooling fans whirred louder, trying in vein to qualm his burning circuits as every barely-there brush picked up by his sensors sent lava straight through his energon lines and wild, electric ecstasy over his circuits.

And then he cried out and arched as Bumblebee suddenly clasped a small servo almost too tightly right around the base of his cord.

Jazz wrapped his legs around Prowl's middle, bringing him back down and murmuring nothings into his audio, a wave of his own deep lust coursing through him at the sight of Bumblebee taking Prowl firmly in his grip… and as Prowl settled again with a longing whimper, the black servo moved, oh-so-slowly, up towards the tip of the spike.

As it did, two of the now slightly lubricated digits of the other hand pressed into the tacticians port at the same rate.

Jazz let out a longing moan as he watched those fingers press into Prowl's sweet entrance. He almost wished he had asked Bumblebee to do that to him… then he remembered it was a punishment and knew he'd go crazy if 'Bee tortured him like that. But still, the sight and thought sent a tingle through his circuits, helped along by the higher rev of Prowl's engine that reverberated strongly though him, curled around the Datsun as he was.

Prowl keened with pleasure as his sensor net was flooded with positive charge data from the firm, slow strokes up his cable and into his port.

The wonderful sensations exploding through him were better than any of his dreams or fantasies of this moment… in no way could his overactive stasis imagination match THIS…

" _Nnnn… Primus…BEE!"_

Prowl's ventilators began to pant, he was loosing coherency again as wave after wave of pleasure zinged across his sensor net. He relaxed back into Jazz, dimly feeling the extremely hot plating of his lover's codpiece pressed against his lower back just above his aft.

Prowl had thrown his helm back, door-wings aquiver, but Jazz's optics were still locked on the minibot as he continued his onslaught.

Jazz felt an almost unbearable surge of heat in his interface units as Bumblebee lowered his helm slowly and pressed a kiss to the tip of Prowl's spike. He then slipped out his glossa and flicked the end, making Prowl twitch and whine and beg him…

Jazz let out a needy whine himself, almost unable to keep himself in check. He clung to Prowl's shaking, keening form as Bumblebee looked up, giving him a very devious smile, optics glimmering, before he slowly lowered his mouth over Prowl's cord, taking in the black and white cable in a way Jazz would never have imagined the spy capable of doing…

Both black and whites' cooling fans were humming like crazy.

Prowl pretty much melted in Jazz's hold as Bumblebee went most of the way down his cord and then drew off, sucking hard. The strangled cry he made told Bumblebee that it wouldn't matter how slow he went soon, not much was standing between Prowl and a violent, 'face deprived overload.

But as much as Bumblebee was willing to send him crashing straight into the throes of bliss he was promising… he remembered that he deserved to be teased for as long as he could manage.

Then again, another look at Jazz's painfully desperate faceplates told him that his torture of the tactician seemed to be effecting the saboteur almost directly.

_What the pit, I live to please anyway…_

Apart from anything, Bumblebee felt his own interface units burning beneath his yellow panel. He smiled around the tip of Prowl's cord, twisting his glossa around it and making Prowl yelp with pleasure. He had just remembered something from their first interface.

He let Prowl's cord fall into his waiting servo again and stopped pumping his fingers within the Datsun, who's optics immediately re-onlined from where he'd let them dim to nothing, and his helm snapped up at the pause.

He watched in fascination as Bumblebee reached the hand covered in Prowl's own lubricant between his legs to his panel, which Prowl couldn't see.

Prowl and Jazz's optics both widened as Bumblebee retracted his codpiece and released his cord, still leaning over so they couldn't really see. He smirked at Prowl before diving back down between the white and black legs.

Prowl gasped and keened loudly as he felt the minibot's silver glossa dig greedily into his port, lapping at all the lubricant it could reach.

Jazz moaned longingly at the image that he had no idea had already occurred in reverse.

Prowl recognised the gesture though, and watched in aroused fascination as the minibot stroked himself while wriggling his glossa deliciously inside him. Prowl bit his bottom lip and whined as Bumblebee's other hand, still holding his cord, began stroking him firmly.

With Jazz gnawing his shoulder and grinding needily against his back at Bumblebee's display and ministrations, Prowl knew he was rapidly approaching release.

Bumblebee could feel it in the spasms and clenches of the port around his mouth, which was buried to the nose-ridge in the flexible platelets that rimmed the valve.

Wanting to savour the tactician's expression when he reached his peak, Bumblebee removed his glossa, licking the lubricant smeared on his face away where he could. Prowl keened as the image sent a zing of pre-overload ecstasy through him. _So close…_

Bumblebee replaced his glossa with three digits, which immediately began to pump Prowl hard as his other hand matched the increased pace on the black and white cord.

Prowl lost it. He let whatever loud cries he wanted to escape him do so, letting himself be consumed by the pleasure. Bumblebee's hard work on his cord and port sent him soaring to heady heights as it was, but the moment Jazz bit down on one of his door-wings, he was plunged over the edge and his overload came _hard._

"NNNGGGGHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Even Jazz was surprised by how loud Prowl was. Normally he himself was the noisy one when they interfaced, but clearly, the Datsun was in a state where he was beyond caring. He was thankful however, for Prowl's sake, that his office was soundproof.

Bumblebee hummed in satisfaction, a wide grin splitting across his face as Prowl let go.

The cry he let out made the minibot's processor buzz and tingle and he kept up his hard pace on the cord and in the now streaming port as Prowl bucked and quivered and twitched in Jazz's hold.

His facial expressions did not disappoint either. Neither did Jazz's, at that. The Porsche seemed to melt at the sound of his lover's release.

When Prowl's cry of ecstasy petered out and he fell limp in Jazz's hold, cooling fans whirring loudly, Bumblebee ceased his motions and sat back, his own fans buzzing. Jazz looked up and saw the innocent, happy mech he was so used to… it was the same Bumblebee. Even though he'd never seen this side of his cheery, endearingly innocent subordinate, he was starting to realise it had probably always been there… and no one had bothered to uncover it.

Jazz's optics roamed with an amused glint over Prowl's lubricant still smeared on the brightly grinning silver faceplates, then down the yellow chassis to the minibot's now open interfacing panel.

He bit his bottom lip as he uncurled his legs from Prowl's middle. Prowl, through the static that overload had clouded his audios with, heard his lover give a soft, longing groan.

Pulling himself together (which took a considerable effort given that surge had nearly offlined him), he looked slowly between the bright, intense blue visor on his shoulder and the exposed, smiling Bumblebee.

A small smile pulled at his mouth.

"I think you should get yourself acquainted with minibot sensory arrays…" he suggested a little breathlessly to his lover.

Jazz's visor flashed. He Didn't need telling twice. And he knew he wasn't imagining it when he saw Bumblebee's optics go a shade darker when he heard the tactician's recommendation. The spy bit his bottom lip and leaned a little further back on his heels, knees still on the floor. He spread his legs slightly with a playful look, definitely teasing Jazz now.

"Sure you don't want me to give you a guided demonstration first?" he teased, lightly stroking the servo covered in Prowl's lubricant up and down the inside of his own thigh plating.

 _Damn_ he was hot when he was being devious like that… Jazz snaked out from between Prowl's door wings with a growl and nearly pounced Bumblebee as Prowl smirked, knowing the saboteur had about reached his patience limit for look-but-don't-touch where Bumblebee was concerned.

"I think I'll cope on my own." Jazz said huskily as he slipped his hands over the yellow hip plates and took his glossa to Bumblebee's face, cleaning Prowl's essence from the soft dermal plating, earning a grateful if not surprised mewl from the spy.

Jazz pressed his chassis lightly into the yellow chest plate, pushing Bee back and down slowly, until the beetle was supine beneath him.

Those innocent optics looked up at him with nothing but adoration and desire. Jazz felt a thrilling zing through his circuits. He had wondered, now and then, what it might be like if Bumblebee were the type to seek a relationship, and wether he might be In the minibot's sights. He had never quite been comfortable thinking of Bee like this though… he was such a loyal friend, such a good comrade… pretty much no mech _hated_ the ever friendly yellow bot … Jazz hadn't wanted to wreck the happy balance between them by probing the spy about his love interests. He hadn't thought about it for a long time, pushing away such thoughts out of respect for Bumblebee's apparent innocent nature…

But now he had discovered, by his lover's happy accident with the beetle, that quite contrary to his knowledge, the yellow bug was possibly one of the most lustful of all the minibots, he found his repressed affections and desires had been completely turned loose. Bumblebee had helped that process by giving him one of the best shows of his life-stream, so it was all he could do not to ravage the yellow chassis beneath him.

Jazz settled for another, more intense kiss with his subordinate.

Bumblebee accepted him readily, being the first of them in fact to invade the other's mouth with his glossa.

Jazz moaned, adoring the feel and taste of the smaller glossa as it explored him. He caressed it gently with his own as he pressed his lips deeper into Bumblebee's.

He felt small, black servos contact his chest plate, sliding inquisitively across his hood, mapping it out before sliding below it to start repeating the touches to his middle and sides.

Before long, the small hands had slipped into gaps and started to caress deeply, wanting to give Jazz the treatment he knew would be appreciated, finding deeply hidden sensor nodes and a transformation cog that he made sure to stroke delicately.

Their kiss broke abruptly as Jazz gasped and shuddered, helm jerking back as spasms of pleasure burst from the deep penetration of Bumblebee's touches under his armour. Jazz had been with minibots before, but never had one had such nimble fingers.

Jazz lowered his helm, rocking forwards and pressing his lips to Bumblebee's own helm. He traced light kisses across the yellow metal until he reached one of the horns and, with a smirk, latched onto it with his mouth. At the same time, one black servo trailed down the yellow chassis to the open interface panel, where it began to lightly stroke the extended black and yellow cable.

Bumblebee moaned loudly beneath him, and _Primus_ it set his circuits on fire…

The minibot searched for more wires under the blue and red striped hood to stroke, loosing himself in the pleasure until Jazz's denta traced his horn and fell into one of the dents.

It was as though someone had switched on the light in a dark room full of things that told a horrible and stark truth. Bumblebee gasped, hands slipping out from Jazz's plating and softly pushing against it, his frame trembling slightly.

Jazz was startled, but immediately withdrew his mouth and hand, responding to Bumblebee's sudden need for space.

"Oh slag, I didn't hurt ya did I? I'm sorry 'Bee, I didn't-"

"Nono! No, it's not you Jazz… oh _slag_ I'm such an _idiot…_ I can't do this, not to you, not now…"

"Hey, it's alright, it's OK. If it's too fast for ya we don't have to-"

"I'm sorry Jazz, it's nothing to do with you… if anything, it's Prowl's fault… and mine for being so slagging _easy…_ "

Bumblebee dragged himself up into a sitting position, burying his faceplate in his hands, as though ashamed of something.

Prowl frowned in concern. He had been feeling his arousal returning much faster than normal as he sat recovering from his first overload. It disturbed him that it didn't settle any when the two suddenly broke apart. He had to admit, it had been exceptionally pleasing to see Jazz working his magic on the minibot, hearing him make those delicious sounds… but clearly, something had occurred to him… something that _he_ had apparently helped cause…

Prowl sat forward, door-wings twitching upwards behind him.

" _Easy_ , in the way I believe you are using it, is not exactly a word I would use to describe you… If I've caused you more grief, I want to do all I can to help rectify the problems I have created. I still owe you…"Prowl spoke softly and apologetically.

Bumblebee sighed through his vents in what seemed a defeated manner, servos dropping from his face, looking as depressed as he had the other night before the Twins got him over-charged.

"What's up lil' buddy? Ya can tell us, we're all friends here." Jazz said, grin creeping onto his concerned faceplate as he made his ironic intonement.

Bumblebee bit his bottom lip, an unmistakeably guilty expression plastered on his face as he looked between them.

"I can't go interfacing with you without you knowing what's happened since that battle… I mean… it's not even _like_ me… this has to have been one of THE craziest few joors of my entire life-stream. I only just found out you two want me in your relationship, and you have no idea how happy that makes me feel… but I think I've already messed it up." Bumblebee groaned, one of his servos going to his faceplate again as he shook his head in his palm.

"Can't have done anythin' that bad 'Bee, I mean… its YOU." Jazz tried to reassure him, unable to repress a silly grin.

Bumblebee looked up at him with pained optics.

"Don't bet on it… my capacity for stupid seems to have increased since Prowl and I first interfaced." Bumblebee sighed again, gearing up to coming clean with his new and possibly soon to be ex-partners.

The two black and whites glanced at each other with confusion before focusing back on the minibot, who was gathering his processor to get things out properly.

"See, I… I was mad when Prowl avoided me, I felt like slag, I thought you hated me, I thought I'd been rejected _again_ … I was so angry, when I was on patrol with Sunstreaker and I saw Rumble… he was talking to Frenzy about the battle and about trying to shoot you and wondering if he hit me, and it just… fried a sore circuit in me and I attacked him without provocation."

Both of the other mechs expressions turned from confusion to stunned shock. They glanced at each other and back at Bumblebee, unable to find anything to say to the revelation of the out of character actions.

Bumblebee ploughed on, hating that he was about to wreck something that had such promise…

"I did feel a bit better when I got to beat the slag out of those two… I got Sunstreaker to cover for me because I can't really explain to other bots that I did it 'cause I was fragged that Prowl was ignoring me after saving my life via interface. But Sunstreaker was witness to me loosing it, and he got all these ideas about how there was more to me than he thought… he told 'Sides of course, and they decided to kidnap me under the pretence of cheering me up by getting me overcharged."

"Under the pretence? You mean… nah, Sunny _hates_ minibots… doesn't he?" Jazz said uncertainly, sharing an 'is this really going where I think it is?' look with the tactician, who gave him a slight shrug in response.

Bumblebee seemed torn between amusement and mortification. He'd never expected that he'd have to tell them… he hadn't expected to form this relationship either… but he hadn't planned on _any_ of his recent liaisons, his life suddenly seemed so wildly out of his control, this was insane…

"Um, yea, well… he seems to have made an exception. He told me outright… he kinda propositioned me with the intention to, uuuh… get me slagged, then get me fragged."

Bumblebee nearly winced when both officer's mouth plates went slack and they stared at him, open mouthed.

"And surely you… you…" Prowl's sentence petered off uncertainly.

"I kinda… _accepted the offer._ " Bumblebee muttered, faceplates glowing as he rubbed the back of his helm.

"WHAT!" The two both said in shocked unison. But neither sounded angry.

"I thought you weren't interested, and I felt like slag, and they were there trying to make me feel better, and… it's _them…_ how do you say _no_ to a 'face with _both_ of _them?_ " Bumblebee tried to explain himself hurriedly before groaning and shaking his helm, off lining his optics. "That sounds like a lame excuse, even to me. I think that virus really _did_ mess up my processor… suddenly I'm letting myself turn into the Ark's easiest 'face…"

"Oh you are not." Prowl said dismissively, moving a little closer, door-wings still held high and optics now half shuttered.

"You did what any bot does when they're spark broken. They offered you comfort and you took it. It _is_ my fault… I wasn't fast enough, and somebot else realised you have desires like everyone else. You were right, it is my fault." Prowl said gently, tone apologetic but also reassuring.

Bumblebee looked up, optics shinning over-bright. He had been expecting disgust, not acceptance and understanding… he really _didn't_ have much of a clue when it came to relationships…

A flicker of something did pass over Prowl's optics though. "Remind me to think up some appropriate form of punishment for those two for moving in on _my_ minibot though. Those two are entirely incorrigible."

Bumblebee felt the corner of his lips twitch up at Prowl's statement, although he was unsure of just how serious Prowl was being…

"Ah 'Bee… yah might be a secret fire-cracker at 'facing from what I've seen so far… but ya really haven't had much ta do with love lives on the Ark have you? One frag with Prowl and one with the Twins-"

"Two…" Bumblebee corrected him meekly, faceplate burning again as he looked uncomfortable.

Jazz's visor flickered in a blink, and he continued bemusedly,

"- and _two_ frags with the Twins, does not constitute bein' easy… no, not even in the space of an orn. Ya obviously have no idea how much the Twins themselves get around… not ta mention Ratchet…"

His mouth curled into a smile as Bumblebee gave him an almost horrified look.

"…Seriously?" Bumblebee breathed.

"I can tell you now, Red Alert has had to switch off the med-bay cameras at least three times in the last few orns, and you know what he's like about switching off cameras. Red doesn't mind turning a blind eye to the more publicly active couples on the ship… but even he is overwhelmed when it comes to Ratchet…" Prowl revealed quietly with a growing smile at Bumblebee's shocked expression.

"Bot's got his own private collection of mechs who wanna either show him gratitude for all the fixin' he does, or simply need his 'expert touch' to scratch an itch that they don't have anyone else ta scratch for em'."

"Uuuh… I believe the human expression is TMI Jazz, too much information… I don't think I'll be able to look Ratch' in the optics for a while… not unless I want him to check my processor for glitches because I can't stop bursting out in random giggling fits." Bumblebee said, mood apparently recovering now he realised they weren't at all holding his actions against him.

Jazz's own smile turned devious once more, visor flaring as he realised Bumblebee's big revelation was worse for him than it was for them.

"S'long as Ratchet doesn't know the Twins got to ya, or I'm not sure either of you will be able ta see each other without either laughing or the Twins getting' offlined by flying wrenches. I'm guessin' those two were pretty good? Seems I found one o' Sunny's marks did I?" Jazz purred, sliding back over to Bumblebee, who's frame had relaxed a little more again. He lifted a digit to gently trace the dent in the yellow horn, Bumblebee shuddering from the pleasure echo that tingled through him. He bit his lip.

"Y-yea… I have to admit they were… _good_ …" he murmured sheepishly. "Sunny is a bit rough though… wasn't so bad 'cause 'Sides was there… you've… you've never… have you?" Bumblebee questioned Jazz's knowing smirk dubiously.

The smirk only widened as the pressure on Bumblebee's horn was increased just enough to send a stronger tingle through him, making him gasp.

"Not so much me experiencing' them as them experiencing' _me_. It was before I made a move on Prowler though… back when I was jus' getting' ta know everyone. I gained the trust of those two faster than any bot else apparently." Jazz smirked, rubbing and stroking Bumblebee's horn until the minibot leaned his helm into the touch, moaning softly and off lining his optics .

 _Too easy_. _S' almost as if we'd been doin' this for vorns. Mmmm, if we got vorns o' this ahead of us, the future's lookin' pretty slaggin' good…_ Jazz thought as his other servo moved silently towards Bumblebee's interface units again while his optics were offline.

Jazz motioned Prowl over as he lay Bumblebee back down and made his optics shoot back online with a cry of pleasure as he wrapped his servo around the black and yellow cord once more, softly stroking it as Bumblebee squirmed. The minibot's cooling fans buzzed loudly, his arousal re-kindled quickly with the revelation that neither mech seemed at all fazed by the fact he had been fragged by two completely different bots only last night.

Bumblebee felt familiar white servos snake around his waist as Prowl lay down beside him, rolling him onto his side to face Jazz.

"You know, I'm not personally versed in the Twin's standard of interfacing…" Prowl murmured softly, coolly in his audio.

"But I am… and it looks like we're just gonna hafta surpass them if we want to keep 'Bee from runnin' off ta be with them instead…" Jazz growled, scooting in closer.

" _hnnnnn_ … is that… a promise?" Bumblebee panted, hands latching onto the saboteurs' plating again, seeking out the gaps he had previously been mapping, finding them quickly and diving in.

"Most certainly. I will _not_ be out-done by them…" Prowl murmured in his ear before taking over where Jazz left off, tracing a horn with his glossa.

Bumblebee moaned loudly, bucking into Jazz's touch and shuddering as Prowl's glossa traced the dent Jazz had already found almost curiously. Prowl began running his denta very lightly over the appendage himself, making vibrations that sent lances of ecstasy right down Bumblebee's back-strut, causing him to arch and gasp in the tactician's grip.

"You testin' a theory on helm sensor sensitivity there Prowler? Or just applyin' previous experience…" Jazz purred with glee as he watched Bumblebee's face melt into pleasured abandon. Primus, seeing Prowl do that with his mouth was so slagging _hot._

Prowl smiled around the appendage slightly, giving Jazz a lustful gaze with now deeply blue optics.

"Both." He whispered, brushing his lips lightly over the yellow metal, making Bumblebee shiver and arch again, digging his digits deeper into Jazz and finding two symmetrical synchronised transformation cogs in his sides. He stroked them both hard and Jazz gasped and groaned, grip on the minibot's cord tightening with pleasant pressure as he now arched into the beetle's hood.

Jazz moved and pressed closer to Bumblebee, sandwiching him between the two black and whites.

Prowl was now playing his fingers over Bumblebee's glass windows slowly moving his left towards the seam in his side and the sensors he knew were awaiting him there.

Jazz continued his soft, slow strokes on the cord his servo was wrapped around and pressed his lips to Bumblebee's once more, swallowing the yellow mech's moans.

Prowl moved his mouth's attentions to the other horn while his fingers reached Bumblebee's waist, pressing into the plating gaps and locating a node to tease.

Bumblebee suddenly giggled into Jazz's mouth, making the saboteur break the kiss with a bemused smile.

"You weren't ticklish there the last time I did this." Prowl murmured with slight surprise over his horn, the vibrations making him shiver again.

" _Hehe_ -hn-no… not ticklish there… I just thought… it's stupid, I hang with Spike too much, but *giggle* I just realised…I'm… _hehhehe,_ I'm in a PB &J sandwich." and he promptly dissolved into a quiet fit of laughter.

The two officers shared a look of surprise before Jazz got it and started giggling along with Bumblebee. Prowl frowned, except it looked more like a pout, which only made Jazz's giggling worse.

"Oh man… he's right. Aaaw, don't gimmie that look, It's a human snack Prowlie. Peanut, Butter n Jelly. P, B n J. Prowl, Bumblebee, Jazz, in that order, on your office floor…" Jazz and Bumblebee promptly lost it to another fit of the giggles while Prowl 'humph'd' and twitched his wings.

"Clearly, if you're thinking about humorous human food analogies for this, we're not trying hard enough to beat the Twins."

Prowl's hand forewent the intended attentions on Bumblebee's side and instead sought out the hand Jazz was using to stroke Bumblebee's spike.

He drew it away and down, cupping his palm around the back of the servo before pressing two of the saboteur's fingers right into Bumblebee's slick and, as of yet, untouched port.

Bumblebee gasped, choking ungracefully on his giggles, letting out a cry of pure pleasure as Prowl forced Jazz's fingers right into his port without pre-amble.

Even Jazz gasped and moaned as he felt Bumblebee's wet valve close around his digits. The minibot ground automatically against the touch as Prowl moved Jazz's hand for him while his pleasantly reeling processor caught up.

"Mmmm, someone's impatient this cycle." Jazz purred with a crooked smile as he began to pump his fingers without Prowl's guidance, _loving_ the way Bumblebee writhed and vented in pure ecstasy at his touches.

Bumblebee offlined his optics as Prowl smirked, resuming his onslaught on the node in his side while two of Jazz's fingers massaged his port so wonderfully he felt himself melt.

"If you've managed to take your CPU off funny coincidences involving earth culture and our current relationship situation, you may remember what it was like the first time you and I discovered what happens to me when I interface once and then go without for a few joors. 'Bee did an _exceptional_ job but a breem ago, but you _know_ it's going to take more than one overload for my circuits to properly cool off."

"Then why 'm I playin' with 'Bee's port when I coulda' kept getting' him ready ta plug into you?" Jazz asked lightly, brushing his lips against the front of the central crest of the yellow helm, Bumblebee still writhing between them as Jazz' fingers stroked wire bundles and explored his valve gently. All he could do was let out quiet, involuntary mewls of pleasure, but he was still listening with interest to the conversation over his helm.

Prowl's right servo slipped into the junction between his hip and leg and he nearly lost the thread of what they were saying.

"Because I still don't deserve that yet. I want 'Bee to feel what I've felt first, if he's no objection to letting me see you plug into him."

The shudder that passed through Jazz's frame told Bumblebee that the prospect seemed to excite him.

"Whaddya say 'Bee? OK if I find out what made Prowl so crazy about ya?" he murmured.

Bumblebee responded by pressing a needy, passionate kiss to Jazz's accepting lip plates.

" _Please._ " He managed to breath as he broke the kiss and ground his hips against Jazz's hand again.

Without prompting, Bumblebee's fingers left Jazz's sides and sought out his interfacing panel.

It was exceptionally hot, but he wasted no time finding the catch pressure point and sliding away the black metal.

Jazz groaned needily as Bumblebee's fingers traced his interfacing unit, exploring the recessed spike and tracing his dripping port entrance.

Jazz bit his lip with a moan, helm rocking back and the pace of his fingers inside the minibot's tight port increasing.

Bumblebee responded by unlatching the Porsche's cord and letting it extend into his hand. He could tell by the feel (for he couldn't see with their chassis pressed so close together) that it was thicker than Prowl's.

Jazz's engine revved hard when Bumblebee began stroking him firmly, twisting his hand slightly as he did, rubbing his thumb over the spike's tip a few times to get more wonderful sounds from Jazz, who's cooling fans worked so hard Bumblebee could feel them drawing air over his frame.

Jazz's fingers went wild in response, scissoring inside Bumblebee's valve, thumb rubbing the flexible platelet edges and smearing more of the minibot's lubricant around.

Jazz's frantic touches, combined with Prowl's skilful white fingers stroking wires and nodes in his side and hip joint, were quickly leading Bumblebee beyond his own control. He writhed, arched and bucked, earning satisfied and lustful hums from both mechs.

"huuu- nnnnn- can't wait… Jazz, _please…_ I need _you… aah!"_

Jazz could tell from the way Bumblebee's port tightened spasmodically around his digits that he would overload the spy before they'd even gotten anywhere if he kept teasing.

"Only too happy to oblige 'Bee." Jazz breathed out huskily, removing his fingers, only to have Prowl take that hand again and rest it over Bumblebee's shoulder so he could lick the lubricant off.

Jazz moaned in delight as Prowl's glossa wound around his fingers. He gripped Bumblebee's waist in his other servo where it sat under the minibot, who was guiding his superior officer's cord into his valve entrance.

When Bumblebee had pushed the tip of the spike between the platelets, Jazz took over, rocking his hips up and into the sweet, tight port of his subordinate.

Both mechs let out long, delighted moans as Jazz pushed himself all the way into the well lubricated valve.

Prowl released the servo of Jazz's that he had been licking clean of Bumblebee's essence so that the saboteur could hold Bumblebee's hips steady. The minibot was positively quivering with anticipation, his engine running hot and fast, thrumming it's buzzing arousal into the other two chassis pressed close around it.

Prowl shifted into a position to help brace Bumblebee, servos snaking across Bumblebee's sides again, stroking glass and wires as Prowl kissed and sucked the back of the small neck, brushing denta over main cables to send shivers down the spy's backstrut.

Jazz began to move in Bumblebee with a satisfied moaning hum, pressing slowly in and out of the still tight port. Bumblebee could feel every ridge of Jazz's spike against the wire bundles and sensors within him, and he mewled and gasped in ecstasy as Jazz quickly picked up the pace.

But after a klik or so of the faster pace, Jazz slowed again, bringing Bumblebee's growing charge back to a steady thrumming pressure at his core.

It was as if Prowl could feel this as well, because he moaned into the back of the Spy's neck, his grip in Bumblebee's sides getting a little more tense.

Bumblebee whined needily and Jazz mirrored Prowl, attacking the front of the Minibot's neck with a moan as he moved enticingly slowly in and out again, making sure Bumblebee could feel every inch of that satisfying cable within him.

Jazz could barely contain himself, but he savoured the irregular clenching of wire bundles around him as he rocked his hips at an agonisingly slow pace, feeling the heat within him increase. But he felt strongly that they could make this even _more…_ he remembered something from his academy days that used to be popular between friends sharing a berth partner. The very thought sent an electrifying thrill through him that tingled with the first hints of an exquisite overload.

"Mmmmmm…'Bee… d'ya think you could handle Prowl joinin' me?"

Bumblebee took a moment through the double onslaught on his neck and the slow inward pressure of Jazz's spike to register the Porsche's words… but when he did, he onlined optics he hadn't realised had offlined and felt a strong surge of heat that made him let out a shuddering aspiration.

"W-what, both of you… in me? At once?"

"Primus Jazz… are you sure that's… I don't want to hurt him." Prowl breathed uncertainly, but the lust was clear in his tone.

"If I can take Sunstreaker… I reckon I can handle you two." Bumblebee purred excitedly with a small, breathless giggle.

Jazz's faceplates split into a wide smile as he kissed Bumblebee, briefly but passionately.

"If it starts to hurt or feel bad at all, in the slightest, tell me." Prowl murmured as he shifted again, lining himself up by feel.

Bumblebee nodded and felt the tactician's spike brush the protected circuit board behind his port and slide forward to meet Jazz's already inserted cable.

Bumblebee let out a few loud, strangled noises of pleasure as Jazz used a finger to help stretch his entrance a little more for Prowl.

When Prowl pressed himself through the small gap and entered Bumblebee beside Jazz, the yellow mech moaned louder than ever without restraint, arching between them as they gasped.

The stretching was both painful and intoxicatingly wonderful.

Bumblebee keened with pleasure as the two moved slowly within him, unsynchronised, both of them letting out mewls and gasps and moans of their own.

Prowl's sheathing rubbing against Jazz's, Spike massaging the other's more deeply penetrated cable, both lubricated deliciously by the exceptionally tight, hot port… Bumblebee… both of them together, inside Bumblebee, moving, making him writhe and cry out in bliss… Prowl never thought he'd feel anything better than this in his entire life stream. Certainly, this was to become his benchmark for pleasure, and they hadn't even overloaded yet.

They didn't talk again, not coherently anyway, their actions seemed to be all that was necessary.

Jazz pressed harder and deeper into Bumblebee and the three gasped and shuddered as they heard the audible 'click' of Jazz connecting with Bumblebee's socket.

Prowl continued to rub his cord up and down as it remained tightly pressed between Jazz's now stationary cable and Bumblebee's still contracting valve walls.

Bumblebee had a leg thrown over Jazz's hips, the saboteurs grasp on his own hips doing little to calm the erratic bucks as sensory information began to flow through the connection.

Jazz decided it didn't really matter, and put one of the servos to better use, slipping it between him and the yellow mech, grasping the black and yellow cable and stroking it languidly, making Bumblebee mewl even louder.

Jazz let the feeling of being connected to Bumblebee so intimately wash over him completely (Prowl's movement pressed tight against him within 'Bee's port only helping him to feel the thrill of being able to share this experience with his lover), before he started sending low, thrumming pulses of energy through the hardline.

Bumblebee arched, echoing back his own charges, but not bothering to reign back the strength of them.

Bumblebee could barely hold off his overload once he got used to the feel of Jazz spreading through his circuits.

But as Jazz continued to hold back his energy, Bumblebee knew the saboteur wasn't aware he was so close to the edge. He couldn't help it with Prowl still stretching him so exquisitely and moving in him, faster as the Datsun's engine began to rev higher and more insistently.

Bumblebee went for broke.

Jazz let out a shocked cry of pleasure as Bumblebee sent a strong spark pulse straight through him.

Then another. And another.

Jazz growled with a lustful smile, claiming Bumblebee's panting lip-plates in a searing kiss as he charged a strong spark pulse of his own right back.

The heat between the three of them was incredible as Jazz tipped Bumblebee over the edge with another, stronger spark-pulse.

The minibot arched and jerked uncontrollably in the throes of his bliss, overload coming hard and staying long as Prowl pressed as far into him as he could beside Jazz.

The Minibot's engine, running at full torque, vibrated Prowl's overly sensitised frame, and as the already snug port clenched tightly around him and Jazz, Prowl arched, letting out a short, almost surprised cry as he was flooded with the intense pleasure of his second overload.

Jazz came at the same time, keening loudly as Prowl arched and pressed the vibrating, moaning minibot into his own chassis.

Pure, processor blowing, spark intoxicating pleasure slammed through his circuits.

The three rode the roiling waves of ecstasy.

Bumblebee felt every inch of his tight, stretched, and completely filled port as overload washed through his sensory array.

He realised with another zing of pleasure and a buck that one of Prowl's servos had left his side and snaked around his hips, hugging him tight, with a servo over Jazz's as it grasped his cable with soft pressure.

It was several astroseconds before the ecstasy began to ebb and decline. It was slow to leave them however, and they remained pressing and holding tight to one another until it abated more substantially and they all relaxed, metal squeaking against one another as they went limp in their blissful tangle on the floor.

"… _Wooooooooow_ " Bumblebee breathed through half shuttered optics as his cooling fans buzzed frantically to try and keep his circuits from overheating. He moved very slightly and bucked weakly and involuntarily as the sensors in his valve pinged with another strong stab of after-pleasure from the two cords still buried deep within him.

Prowl and Jazz's intakes hitched in their own frantic whirring at the movement, both letting out satisfied little noises as they nuzzled Bumblebee's over-warm frame.

"Easy 'Bee… _Primus_ … that was slaggin' _intense._ " Jazz gasped with amazement clear in his tone.

"I'm not sure I want to know where you picked this technique up, Jazz… but I wouldn't be adverse to you both trying it on me sometime." Prowl muttered into Bumblebee's neck cables, and Bumblebee was sure he could feel the tactician's almost embarrassed little smile pressed into him.

Jazz chuckled, and Bumblebee savoured the reverberation of the saboteur's vocals through his chassis. "Ah, you know what it's like in the academy Prowl. Bot's did all kinds o crazy things back then…"

"Good to see you keeping all the important lessons from your academy days fresh in your processor." Prowl teased him wryly, but Bumblebee quivered happily at the almost coy purr to the Tactician's tone.

The Datsun heaved a sigh through his vents and released the servo holding Jazz's hand around Bumblebee's cable.

Jazz slipped the hand away with a parting stroke that made Bumblebee mewl with another strong after-shock of pleasure. Jazz moaned softly too, feeling it through their still established connection.

Gently, Prowl began to pull out of Bumblebee, who gasped and shuddered and let out soft agreeable noises as the over-sensitive walls of his valve zinged and felt the spike acutely as it drew out slowly.

He gave a soft 'Ah!' noise somewhere between pleasure and pain as the spike finally left and his entrance shrank down a little again. He gave a soft groan. It ached now, but in a way that felt far too good to complain about.

Jazz disconnected smoothly and drew out just as slowly as Prowl, making both Bumblebee and himself shudder. Jazz gave him a swift kiss on the lips and a crooked smile before he moved back, disentangling his legs and arms from Bumblebee and Prowl. He rolled onto his back, supporting his head and shoulders up on his elbows, and heaved a sigh through his vents like Prowl had, apparently in an effort to properly cool is exceptionally hot frame. He tilted his head back for a moment, then rolled it languidly forward, inspecting his frame lazily.

Bumblebee was enjoying Prowl mouthing the back of his neck some more as they remained pressed lightly together, but he watched Jazz's face fall into a frown as he looked down at himself.

Bumblebee followed his line of sight, optics widening slightly when he saw that Jazz's still extended cord was covered in more than just his lubricant.

There was some very noticeable bright pink staining the length, and Bumblebee heard Prowl gasp slightly in his audio, apparently having been looking as well.

Gentle white servos turned Bumblebee on his back as Prowl and Jazz both moved to inspect his port for damage, both with guilty, worried expressions on their faceplates.

Bumblebee found himself blushing, even though he reasoned he really needn't be embarrassed with these two...

Bumblebee lifted his torso onto his elbows as Jazz had done, and watched them between his legs sheepishly.

Prowl turned anxious faceplates up to him as Jazz's digits gently touched the torn platelets on either side of Bumblebee's entrance. Bumblebee squirmed slightly at the touch as it sent both pleasure and distinctly stinging pain across his tender sensors.

"Why didn't you say something?" Prowl asked worriedly, door wings high and taught.

"Nnn… cause… it didn't really hurt… still doesn't really. Can't be that bad can it?" Bumblebee muttered almost apologetically.

Jazz shook his head with some relief, drawing his fingers away. "Nah. Just stretched the micro-flex joints a little far. I think yer self-repairs will probably be able to take care of it for ya… although, it might help if I kiss it better." Jazz purred with a sly grin before ducking his head between Bumblebee's thighs.

Prowl shook his own head and smiled as Bumblebee jerked with another soft 'Ah!' and let his helm fall back as Jazz's glossa began gently licking up the large mess of lubricant and energon, running very gently over the small wounds caused to Bumblebee's still pleasantly but strongly aching port.

By the time Jazz was done, Bumblebee, much to his own amazement, felt another small charge building within him, and whined with incredulous need.

"Primus, I didn't think I'd ever be up for more so soon after the first… within a cycle… two joors in a row…" the minibot panted as he felt one of Prowl's servos idly petting his hip seam.

"Guess I just have that effect on Bots." Jazz grinned with a chuckle.

"You most certainly do." Prowl purred calmly.

Jazz's grin only got wider. "Well, we still got a problem ta fix and a minibot who hasn't gotten ta slag anyone yet… I volunteer you Prowler, seein' as yer not gonna feel any better till something's plugged into ya." the Saboteur laughed as Prowl's faceplates burned at the prospect of that yellow and black cord being pressed into him.

"You still haven't had your port attended to properly yourself." Prowl countered a little breathlessly, his arousal flaring easily with his still unsated heat.

"True, but I'm sure ya can help me out while 'Bee helps himself to you… I know yer not too bad with that mouth of yours love." Jazz purred in an all too enticing manner.

While the banter lightened Bumblebee's spark, thinking happily of how he was now a part of this wonderfully intimate relationship, he found himself growing slightly impatient as Jazz's words sent another wave of heat through him.

He nearly pounced Prowl, quickly pushing himself up and snaking his servos around Prowl's sides, drawing their chassis together and pressing his lips against Prowl's, silencing whatever retort he'd had for Jazz.

Jazz laughed delightedly behind them and Bumblebee revved his engine against Prowl's hood before releasing the stunned tactician's lips.

"You can have that talented mouth all to yourself when I've had a bit more of a go with it Jazz." he said simply, reaching his servos up behind Prowl and stroking the door-wing hinges before claiming the Datsun's lips again to swallow his moan.

Jazz hummed appreciatively, vocaliser husky. It would only be two in a row for him as well, but he was happy with that. Especially since he knew how much it took to sate Prowl when he was in his 'facing moods. The Porsche knew there'd be plenty more to come his way in the next few joors.

He satisfied himself with watching and letting the show warm his circuit's a bit more.

Bumblebee dug his fingers as deep into the hinges as he could, making Prowl squirm even as the tactician guided them back down to lie on the floor.

Prowl had sort of hoped that if it got to this in the beginning, they would have moved into his quarters for these activities… as it was, he found himself caring less and less about the fact he wouldn't be able to look at this patch of his office floor for another few orns without the vivid memories of the last few cycles surfacing.

Right now, he was more interested in the way Bumblebee had broken the kiss on his lip-plates to trail more down his hood. Bumblebee moved to Prowl's headlights, running his glossa hard over the glass as Prowl squirmed on his back, door-wings spread wide and hinges regrettably now inaccessible.

Bumblebee stuck his fingers in the joints of Prowl's hips, stroking deep into the wiring, making Prowl moan as loudly as he could.

Prowl had his hands on Bumblebee's helm, thumbs and forefingers rubbing around his horns and making him dizzy with pleasure.

Bumblebee rested his helm sideways on the datsun's hood for a moment, smiling as he listened to Prowl's spark pulsing strongly, before he took his denta to Prowl's bumper, nipping and gnawing lightly along it as Prowl mewled and arched weakly.

Bumblebee was soon eager to stop teasing though, his arousal coming faster than ever. Without a word, Prowl turned himself onto his front and spread his legs either side of Bumblebee where the yellow mech knelt. Jazz crawled over to Prowl's head and plopped himself down in front of the Tactician with his own legs spread wide and messy interfacing units displayed ready for Prowl's attentions.

Bumblebee had to admit he found this position very agreeable. As he took Prowl's hip-plates in his servos and prompted him to raise his aft up on his knees a little, he realised why Sideswipe had been so turned on when he himself had taken this position on the pretence of cleaning paint marks off of Sunstreaker.

The view of Prowl's unpressurised, lubricant slicked spike and dripping valve laid bare and ready sent a strong thrill of heat over his circuits. Then another passed through him as he gazed over the tactician's back and watched as Prowl took Jazz's cord in a servo and gently, slowly running his glossa up the underside of it's length.

Jazz had Prowl's chevron in his fingers, rubbing lightly with his helm thrown back a little as he moaned.

He caught Bumblebee's optics on him and winked in his funny way with a crooked grin.

Bumblebee bit his bottom lip as he smiled, taking his own highly pressurised cord in one servo and placed it carefully at Prowl's entrance. It had been quite a while before Sideswipe since he'd been the one to plug into somebody else… but the memories he had of the few times he'd done it were _very_ good.

He had a feeling though that this would be the best of them… well… it already was.

The Twins had been processor blowing together, but the overcharging had, in Bumblebee's opinion, only dulled the experience in that he had been unable to concentrate his processor long enough to truly pick up and savour the nuances of each pleasure.

This was a sharp contrast, with all his wits about him and two exceptionally different lovers bringing him to overload, all the while reaffirming their affections for him.

Bumblebee decided this would be a good chance to reflect back his passion for Prowl. He would do the same for Jazz given the opportunity, but he had a feeling the Porsche had already felt it when he'd plugged into him and he'd overwhelmed his superior with several fervent spark pulses.

Bumblebee pressed himself slowly into Prowl, letting out a soft, satisfied moan as the hot, wet valve surrounded him, clenching tight. Prowl groaned deliciously around Jazz's cord, which was now halfway into his mouth as he massaged the spike with his glossa.

"Ah! Nnh! Hey, Prowler… you're s-supposed ta, _nnnn_ … be fixin' my port… mah plug's already had wa- aaa- ay too much fun…" Jazz teased Prowl as the tactician trembled when Bumblebee began a steady rhythm rocking against his hips.

"Just, _huuuh…_ thought you could do with a cle- _eeeee_ an, Jazz… I'll get there- _ooooooh…_ "

Bumblebee actually giggled at the two trying to talk through their exclamations of pleasure.

He leaned forward over Prowl's aft and back, rhythm unfaltering as he stretched out a servo and traced it across one of the flared-back door wings quivering so temptingly within reach.

Prowl rocked back into him slightly, mouth drawing off Jazz while he kept it sealed, making the Saboteur keen in pleasure.

Every thrust, Bumblebee would get that little bit closer to Prowl's socket. Meanwhile, the moaning tactician did as he promised and turned his attention to Jazz's streaming port.

Jazz was still rubbing and stroking Prowl's chevron as the white helm went lower and the Datsun extended his glossa to lap at the semi-translucent purple fluids that dripped thickly from between the platelets.

Jazz let out a sighing moan as Prowl pressed his glossa slowly against the taut platelets until it popped into the entrance, eliciting a gasp from the Porsche.

Prowl matched his glossa's rhythm to Bumblebee's cable as it slipped through him, moaning into the clenching wires as Bumblebee managed to penetrate him at angles that brushed the black and yellow spike hard against sensory hot spots within the tactician's valve.

Jazz whined and mewled, squirming as one of Prowl's servos traced seams in his thighs teasingly while the other gently rubbed and pulled on his cord, all the while that talented silver glossa lapped and rubbed at his walls, lips pressing to his opening, ventilating hot, scintillating air over his interface sensors. Prowl's glossa would go a little deeper every time he rocked forward as Bumblebee pulled back.

When Bumblebee couldn't stand the tight spasms of Prowl's port around his cord, he leant forward, hooking his fingers on the edge of Prowl's back-plates where the door-wing hinges emerged, and thrust hard forward while pulling Prowl back.

He hilted himself in the tactician to connect to the socket deep within the slick port. When he did, he shuddered and curled over Prowl's back as incredible lust echoed through the feedback from the link.

Prowl, who had been making short, breathy noises muffled by Jazz's valve, let out a very loud keen as Bumblebee made his strong connection.

His door-wings hitched, but his movements on Jazz did not, merely becoming a little more fervent.

Bumblebee released his hold on Prowl's plating and dug his small digits back into the hinges, stroking hard and feeling the echo as his other servo slid around the front of Prowl's hip plating.

Prowl let out a loud but muffled cry into Jazz's still lubricant streaming port as Bumblebee's arm curled around his front and the small black fingers took his still messy cord in hand, stroking it quickly and lightly. At the same time, the other black servo was buried in Prowl's back and the minibot began sending energy currents across the connection.

Prowl arched, bumper scraping the floor as he ravished Jazz's port in response to Bumblebee's treatment. Jazz started letting out loud exclamations of wanton pleasure as the tactician pressed his glossa as far into him as he could, one white servo copying Bumblebee's movements on his cord with Jazz's spike, and the other digging into the saboteurs hip seam to press a well known sensor node.

" _Prowl!"_ Jazz gasped loudly, the 2IC smiling with satisfaction at having drawn his name from the other's lips.

"Holy slag… ah knew you were good… but _Primus! NNNNH!_ " Jazz was starting to buck uncontrollably, but Prowl merely pressed his servos firmer, removing his mouth from the glistening, sweet port for a moment to admire it.

" _Mmmmm_ … all credit to Bumblebee… I'm just giving you what he's giving me- _eeeee!"_

Bumblebee let out a half-giggle, half-moan as he sent a strong wave of energy through to Prowl to interrupt him on purpose.

Prowl retaliated by sending back a spark pulse that caused Bumblebee to mewl loudly and clutch the tactician tighter, fully curled around his lower half as his hips ground lightly against the black plated aft.

He nuzzled Prowl's lower back plating, mouthing and licking the metal as his strokes on the tacticians' now re-pressurised cord got even faster.

He felt the echoes, but it was Jazz who moaned loudly as Prowl copied the minibot.

Bumblebee thrummed another gentle spark pulse into Prowl as he revved his engine.

Prowl sent one back, but it was an energy surge awash with that incredible lust again. It made Bumblebee a little light-processored, along with a loud keen from Jazz, who it was clear was coming very close to his release.

The sight of the quivering, panting, moaning saboteur made Bumblebee's engine rev high again, and he sent a much stronger spark pulse back into Prowl, just as Jazz pressed two very hard strokes to either side of the Datsun's red chevron.

Prowl, who had removed his fingers from Jazz's hip to plunge them into the hot port, ended up pumping them in and out of the Porsche with abandon as the onslaught on such a broad spectrum of his sensory array sent him crashing over the edge into hard overload.

He stiffened, keening with his glossa still inside Jazz along with his rapidly pumping fingers, other servo gripping the black and white cord firmly and stroking fast and erratically.

Jazz and Bumblebee both followed Prowl together, Bumblebee crying out long and loud as Prowl's overload surged back to him mid-spark pulse and he poured energy into the black and white mech, one servo feverishly working the tactician's cord while the other plunged hard into the door-hinge seam, pressing transformation cogs.

Jazz's cry was strangled as he struggled to sound out the intensity of the pleasure from his overload. It was a hard one, given it was his second, and Prowl's efforts had centred in to concentrate solely on his interface array. It was the sudden and forceful introduction of Prowl's fingers into his port that had done it… a glossa could only reach so far, but it had teased the deeper sensors to hyper-receptiveness, and then the digits had slammed into them, bringing him crashing into a wild release within.

The overload was processor numbingly good for Bumblebee, and he drank up the reverberations of Prowl's roaring engine through his frame, letting it carry the sweet sensations on through his circuits until the incredible energy surging through him finally ebbed, and he suddenly felt exceptionally drained.

Prowl had stiffened, quivering as Bumblebee surged a huge amount of energy into him, giving him his hardest overload yet. Jazz seemed to keep up with him, tensing, head thrown back in bliss, until they both felt the sweet, heady energy abate and slumped tiredly, barely holding up their own frames as their cooling fans whirred and they panted.

Prowl felt Bumblebee's servo fall from his cord and his slight weight slumped against him completely.

The contact, while it felt nice, did not seem to be voluntary. But Prowl didn't trust himself to be able to move under his own power yet. Even though he had relaxed and the pleasure was a gentle tingle through his frame, he trembled with post-overload strain. If he moved he'd probably collapse in a heap on the floor and not want to move for at least a breem or more.

Jazz's head lulled forward, visor dark and dim and a wide, satisfied smile on his face as his pedes twitched with after-pangs of ecstasy as Prowl pulled his fingers out of Jazz's sopping port and released his cable.

He Didn't need to say anything, a gentle hum at the sight of Prowl's lubricant covered, sated faceplates was enough to convey his absolute satisfaction and contentment.

But then he noticed the way Bumblebee was lying limply over Prowl's back plates, fans buzzing gently though he was completely still.

With a slight frown and a very concerted effort, Jazz managed to roll onto his servos and knees and crawl to Prowl's side while the Datsun remained stationary, watching him with a slightly concerned look.

"Hey…'Bee?" Jazz prodded the minibot gently, but got no response. The silver faceplates were turned his way, optics offline and a peaceful look on his unmoving faceplates.

Jazz rested a hand on the yellow back-plating, feeling the steady rumble of the minibot's engine and gentle thrum of his spark. A smile curled the edge of his mouth as he carefully lifted Bumblebee's shoulders by his front in one arm. With the other he gently disconnected the spy's cord from Prowl, who gave a soft noise of pleasure as Jazz drew the yellow and black cable out of him and laid the minibot on the floor.

Prowl finally trusted himself to move now that Bumblebee wasn't leaning on him, and he sluggishly slid to the floor on his front, rolling onto his side to look over his two lovers.

He rested his helm on his arm, small guilty smile tugging at his lip-plates as he inspected Bumblebee's offline, paint marked and (in places) lubricant smeared frame.

"Wow… and I thought we'd offline him with the first one." Jazz mumbled sheepishly, glancing at Prowl as he plopped down next to the yellow mech and ran a servo fondly over the beetle's hood.

"Mmm. I think that was my fault. I tried to bring him with me just as he was sending another spark pulse, I suspect it initiated that incredible energy surge he put through me. We'll have to get him some energon when he onlines again." Prowl said softly, his gaze on the minibot shining with affection as his door-wings twitched with echoes of the incredible power of the blissful sensations Bumblebee had sent crashing through him.

Jazz chuckled softly, still running his servo gently over the yellow plating and gazing over his subordinate's frame with unmistakeable wonder and affection.

"I never really thought it could get better after I got you Prowler… but pit if this don't feel slaggin' amazing, havin' him with us like this." he breathed softly, looking up to meet Prowl's gaze with a sincere intensity.

Prowl nodded, helm scrapping lightly on his arm plating. He was silent a moment as he contemplated the exceptionally _right_ feeling he got from their situation. He had thought the same as Jazz. He had been seduced by an amazing mech in the saboteur, and he had felt quite comfortable with their relationship… but faced with this sudden new lust for another… now he had overcome the hurdle of acceptance and the worries about his feelings for the both of them, he could revel in the new warmth of their broadened intimacy… this curiously complete feeling that was coming from the offline minibot lying on his office floor, and the fact he was now very much involved with them.

Prowl was fairly certain Bumblebee felt the rightness of this too, in some way. Especially given where he was coming from. It almost felt to Prowl as if Bumblebee had finally gotten what he had long deserved, and felt so glad that he and Jazz could be the ones to give it to him.

"When we talked… in those caves, the first time… he didn't say much about his feelings. But… I got the impression he was hurting a lot more than he would ever let on. This feels right, because it's what he deserves… it's what he _needs_." Prowl said quietly, optics flickering back to Jazz from here they'd settled on Bumblebee's untroubled silver faceplates.

Jazz's visor shone with understanding.

"I sometimes thought he wasn't really feelin' nearly as happy as he always seemed. But he's as good at keeping' his personal problems hidden away as he is at spyin' on 'Cons."

"Dangerously good at it then." Prowl stated with a small, sad smile. Jazz gave a short sad laugh and a nod in response.

"Yea, pretty much…" the Porsche's faceplates split into a broad grin once more though as he looked back down at Bumblebee, servo moving from the minibot's hood to gently caress his faceplates.

"Got us now though, don't he? Primus, he ain't gonna know what hit 'I'm." Jazz chuckled softly with a warm, glowing expression that Prowl mirrored.


	6. Chapter 6

"Yellow's a good colour on you Prowler." Jazz said with a silly grin just before he left, having washed in Prowl's private quarters in order to go out and fetch them some Energon.

"So I've been told." Prowl grinned back serenely where he remained on the floor by the still offline Bumblebee.

He heard Jazz's deep chuckle all the way down the corridor as the door hissed closed gently behind the other black and white.

Prowl's optics roved slowly over the smaller frame of the minibot. He had some rather impressive paint scrapes on him again. At least, Prowl assumed it was again, because knowing the state Bluestreak was sometimes seen in when the Twins felt particularly rambunctious, he guessed they had probably not left Bumblebee unscathed.

Prowl felt a little silly as he traced some of the small dents in Bumblebee's cooling frame, a small lick of jealousy rising in his spark.

He didn't at all blame Bumblebee for accepting Sunstreaker's advances (it still felt so strange to think Sunstreaker would even _consider_ a minibot in that way ) but all the same, he had developed a rather strong attachment to the spy in the last orn… and he was not keen on sharing the yellow mech with anyone but Jazz for a while, _especially_ not two mechs as irreverent of established relationships as the Twins.

Prowl's white digits gently traced the denta marks in one of the yellow helm horns. Bumblebee stirred slightly as the touch lit his highly-sensitised haptic array, but he did not come out of stasis.

Prowl felt a fond smile creep onto his faceplates.

Having regained his normal system function levels, Prowl vented a sigh and decided the floor of his office really was no place to let a bot wake up from stasis, so he went about scooping up the smaller yellow mech and headed for his quarters.

He lay Bumblebee carefully on the berth and rifled through one of his drawers to find a cleaning chemise that wasn't used.

* * *

Jazz was half-way to the rec room, strolling languidly down a corridor and humming to himself, when two large, red and yellow forms came barrelling down in the opposite direction.

They stopped dead when they spotted him and his grin broadened.

"Hey guys. What's up?" Jazz chimed cheerfully. The two toughliners both looked at him with some surprise before sharing a confused glance.

"Blaster told us Prowl hauled you and Bumblebee in." Sunstreaker said, his voice blank with puzzlement.

"Yea, he said Prowl was totally fragged off too. Are you guys in trouble? What did you do?"

Sideswipe added hastily, praying to Primus Prowl wasn't punishing Bumblebee for being late for his shift because of them.

Jazz's grin only broke into an even bigger smile.

"Nah, Prowler wasn' mad at us. He's just been stressed out. Got me n 'Bee workin' on some special Ops plans is all, I just came out ta get us some energon. It's turnin into a long meetin'."

The Twins shuttered their optics at him in bemusement.

"Oh… we thought… never mind." Sideswipe muttered, looking sheepish and not meeting Jazz's gaze.

"Nice to know ya care though. I'll send Bee your love when I get back shall I?" Jazz said, unable to stifle the chuckle of amusement at the look on the Twins faces before he continued on his way down the hall.

"How does he _do_ that? I mean I know it's his job to know pretty much everything that goes on but _seriously_ , is that visor of his hooked into Red's cameras or something?" Sideswipe hissed at his brother as they remained where Jazz had left them.

"Well, I can't say we were exactly _subtle_ last night 'Sides. I carried Bee through the halls and Trailbreaker knows we were fragging someone, if he told anyone about that any bot with an imagination could _guess_ …" Sunstreaker muttered, flicking dust off of his freshly waxed chassis. He didn't sound particularly worried by his own statement.

"You do realise if it gets out we're probably going to be running. A lot." Sideswipe said, crossing his arms and giving the golden warrior a pointed look.

Sunstreaker shrugged gracefully. "I'm not against hiding you know. If it saves my paintjob, I'd say there's nothing less than honour in it." He said matter of factly. Sideswipe seemed to consider for a moment.

"Let's go scope out some good spots." The red twin mumbled, and they headed down the corridor towards the deeper parts of the ship.

"Maybe we could ask Prowl where he was using for most of the orn." Sunstreaker snickered as their path took them past the familiar office door.

Sideswipe snorted quietly. "Wish I'd been there to see him storm into the rec-room doorway. Could've gotten a data-shot and captioned something about starting a game of hide and seek and being forgotten about and left hiding for 7 joors".

The two burst out laughing and ran the rest of the way down the corridor in case the 'stressed out' tactician decided to pop his head out and yell at them.

Jazz managed to fend off all the curious questions about his and Bumblebee's 'run-in' with Prowl, until only one mech continued to follow him as he made to leave with a few cubes of energon. Everyone had easily bought the story he had given to the Twins… except, it seemed, one particularly suspicious Lancia.

"Here, let me help." Wheeljack said calmly as he took one of the cubes balanced precariously on top of the others Jazz held.

"M'alright 'Jack, but thanks. Did'ja wanna ask me something' before I get stuck back in that office with a pit-load o paperwork?" Jazz asked with a crooked grin, casual as ever.

Wheeljack waved a hand distractedly at the air. "I know you're not in a special ops and tactics meeting Jazz. You couldn't possibly be, looking _that_ happy." Wheeljack said, shaking his head and fixing the saboteur with a pointed stare as they walked down the corridor away from the noisy rec. room.

Jazz's crooked grin turned curiously bemused.

"Oh? So what do ya know?" he said lightly.

"I only know what Bumblebee told me just before you sat with us in the refectory. And I'm not asking any questions until I'm certain that what he told me and what Prowl has talked to you both about is the same thing." the engineer said carefully.

Jazz's grin turned friendly and wide once more.

"Oh, ya mean about the life savin' frag and Prowl not bein' able to gather the ball bearins to talk about it with us both until today?"

Wheeljack's optics widened and audio panels flashed without him saying anything.

Jazz laughed and bumped Wheeljack playfully as they walked.

"I'm hopin' that's what Bee told ya about, or I just messed up something' big."

"No… I mean, yes… that's what he told me about… so… he actually did it? He talked to you both? And… how are… things, between the three of you?" Wheeljack asked tentatively. Feeling slightly awkward at asking such personal questions of the other officer.

"Ah 'Jack… thing's couldn't get much better. Ya know I had no idea Bumblebee was so good with

His-"

"On second thoughts I don't wanna know!" Wheeljack exclaimed loudly, trying to cover both audials with his hands, but unable to for the energon cube he was holding for Jazz, who was laughing raucously.

"You three getting together is great and all, but spare me the details OK? I'm just glad to know it's all… worked out for Bumblebee." Wheeljack muttered sheepishly.

Even under his face-guard, Jazz could see cherry hued faceplates glowing as the chief engineers' audio panels matched.

Jazz tried to stifle his chuckles as they continued to walk.

"Sorry 'Jack. Ya know me, I can't resist ya reactions. All you science bots are priceless when it comes to topics like this."

Wheeljack harrumphed, but his optics narrowed slightly at the edges in an unseen wry grin.

"That's because us 'science bots' still have some idea of the proper conduct around publicising relationships. Never fails to amaze me how brashly open some mechs here are. I'm not against it or anything, but it's still a bit full on."

"Pfff. You're startin' ta sound like Mirage… and even Hound's managed ta convert him some. Before, he wouldn't even touch Hound in any un-formal way in public… nowadays ahm lucky if I can go near the wash racks with em' both in there and not see 'Raj gropin' the poor tracker's aft."

Jazz dissolved into giggles again as Wheeljack groaned, shaking his head and waving his free servo.

"What don't you understand about _too much information_ Jazz?" The engineer bemoaned. "Although… speaking of which, given what Bumblebee told me, and knowing he couldn't possibly have not come clean with you about it by now… you don't seem at all perturbed about his err… incident with the Twins last night…" Wheeljack continued quietly, slightly curious.

Jazz's expression turned sly and his grin was lopsided.

"Oh yea… he told us. Just as well too, we made sure ta try our best n out-do em."

"Why did I not think I'd be sorry I asked… If Bumblebee comes outta that office walking funny, I'm going to have to avoid him for a few megacycles so I don't hurt his feelings." Wheeljack muttered, panels on his helm glowing brightly with suppressed mirth.

"Why wouldja hurt his feelin's?" Jazz asked curiously, readjusting the cubes in his grasp.

"No offence, but the thought of him having his processor fragged out by you two is… ya gotta admit it's almost absurd… no one on the ark would believe it, maybe if it was just you and Bee, but Prowl… that stiff, with _both_ of ya." Wheeljack couldn't help a few embarrassed giggles escape him.

Jazz's grin was so wide it was amazing his faceplate hadn't split in two.

"Funny thing is, Prowler's the one who started it. Thought the best way to broach the subject was ta up and kiss 'Bee in fronta me."

Jazz couldn't help the loud burst of laughter that left him as Wheeljack's optics went wide and he nearly fritzed his CPU, helm panels flashing erratically.

"I…think I'll leave you to it Jazz." Was all it seemed he could manage as they reached Prowl's office. Jazz accepted his cube back from Wheeljack after he'd keyed the code on the door, still chuckling.

"Appreciate ya not mentionin' any of this conversation ta anyone 'Jack." Jazz said quietly, sincere and glowing grin in place.

Wheeljack's optics narrowed in a grin again as he nodded.

"Hey, Jazz… you guys ARE serious, right? With 'Bee?" He asked timidly as he caught the retreating saboteur's shoulder before he got all the way through the door.

Jazz gave him a slightly confused glance.

"Yea… we're both serious. Ya know what Prowl's like, o' course we're serious. Why? Ya sound worried…" Jazz said uncertainly, voice and expression a little more subdued.

Wheeljack gave him a brief searching look. "'Bee hasn't had the best relationship track record. I just don't want to see him hurt. I know you two would never do that on purpose but… just be mindful, he falls hard. Don't take it lightly." He explained softly, ear panels flashing over-bright with emotion.

Jazz gave Wheeljack a slightly surprised but nonetheless meaningful look back. He responded with a nod and Wheeljack gave him a grateful pat on the shoulder before they parted ways.

Jazz bumped the door-pad with an elbow to close it behind him before he headed for Prowl's quarters across the office.

* * *

Bumblebee came online silently, systems whirring as they booted up. Prowl didn't pause in his cleaning motions on the smaller bots plating even as the bright blue optics onlined. Prowl did smile though. It was clear from the expression on the minibot's face that his memory files had kicked straight in and he knew exactly what had knocked him offline.

The yellow mech's optics flickered to Prowl's as he registered the 2IC's presence, focussing in and lighting even more.

"…Wow." was all he seemed able to say.

Prowl chuckled softly, still cleaning the stray lubricants from the inside of Bumblebee's thigh plating.

"Indeed."

Bumblebee shifted, pushing himself up and taking the cloth from Prowl's hand. With an amused half-grin, Prowl allowed the Spy to nestle into his side as he settled back against the wall.

Bumblebee languidly cleaned around Prowl's interfacing array, as the tactician had done for him while he'd been offline.

Prowl let out a contented hum at the soothing, reciprocated motions.

"I know I'm not the most experienced of mechs, but I still can't believe you managed to offline me when you were the one getting fragged." Bumblebee muttered, faceplate warming slightly as he prodded Prowl's shoulder lightly with a helm horn.

Prowl's grin broadened. "I guess I'm just that good. Does that mean you wouldn't be keen on trying again with a full connection loop?"

Bumblebee's optics widened. "Primus no! I'm just saying I need more practice is all…"

Prowl chuckled softly and Bumblebee couldn't suppress a happy giggle.

"Wha's so funny?" Jazz asked curiously as the door from the office opened with a soft hiss to admit him and his armful of energon cubes.

"We were just speculating the look that was on your face when I kissed Bumblebee in front of you earlier." Prowl replied airily, smiling serenely up at Jazz and not missing a beat.

"Prowl! No we weren't Jazz…although it probably was funny…couldn't see it though, cause, well… Prowl's faceplate was in the way." Bumblebee added, giving Prowl another poke with his helm horn.

"Oh, so ya wanna know what a surprised look is huh?" Jazz purred, depositing the cubes on the bedside furniture before he pounced onto the berth and pressed against both of them with his chassis.

They both gasped and moaned as Jazz took advantage of their still open interface panels and stuck two fingers on each servo in their ports, pumping them vigorously, although still careful of the damage to Bumblebee's entrance.

He soon had the two mechs writhing and making small, sweet, pleasured noises, their surprise fading and arousal flaring until they both threw their arms around the saboteur and planted needy kisses all over his plating as he continued his surprise ministrations.

Jazz moaned as well and pumped them both harder as two sets of lips and servos explored his seams, caressed him and dove into sensors and wires hidden in joints and armour gaps.

Soon, Bumblebee and Prowl had Jazz even more vocal than them, and the three quickly felt a huge influx of heat pass between them as their cooling fans buzzed to life again in a cacophony of feverish passion.

Bumblebee couldn't believe just how fast Jazz was able to bring he and Prowl back to the edge of overload… but a silent dialogue between him and the 2IC confirmed that he would not send them over without them taking him along for the ride.

One of Prowl's nimble servos fluidly opened the Porsche's black panel and Bumblebee got to work coaxing Jazz's spike out again (which wasn't difficult).

Bumblebee and Prowl both stroked the black and white cord, Prowl mewling into the Saboteur's neck tubing as he sucked it lightly.

Jazz let out wanton cries of pleasure, making his strokes inside the other two slower but much more intense, heavily massaging the wire bundles and sensors that made up their valve walls.

Bumblebee was nibbling Jazz's Bumper when Jazz suddenly picked up an intense pace within him and Prowl, digits going all the way out of his port and back in again in quick succession.

It stung Bumblebee's small injuries slightly, but that only increased the waves of pleasure that followed, so that Bumblebee overloaded hard, biting down on the Porsche's bumper with a high pitched keen, servo pumping the black and white cord feverishly as Prowl continued to finger and massage the tip with one of his servos.

Jazz followed Bumblebee's overload with his own, moaning loudly as he hilted his fingers in the others, feeling Prowl and Bumblebee contracting around his digits at the same time. Prowl overloaded silently, at pretty much the same instant as Bumblebee, and the white servo not rubbing hard on the tip of Jazz's spike was wrapped around the saboteur's waist, drawing him in tightly as the three of them succumbed to waves of white hot ecstasy.

When it eventually subsided, Jazz was still slowly and gently rubbing his fingers in and out of their hot, streaming ports. Jazz leant his helm forward against the wall over Prowl's shoulder while the hum of their panting vents and cooling fans echoed through the room.

Prowl still had his faceplate in Jazz's neck tubing and was running a thumb idly around the end of the connection hub of Jazz's spike, earning a pleased groan from the saboteur.

Bumblebee moaned softly , forehead resting on Jazz's hood, listening contentedly to the thrum of his spark within.

" _Primus_ I think you just set a new record of some sort then Jazz." Bumblebee mumbled into the white paint against which his faceplate rested.

The saboteur's responsive chuckle sent pleasant reverberations through his frame.

"Dozzat mean I outclassed the Twins?"

Bumblebee smiled widely. "Don't let them know I said yes."

Both black and white officers laughed at that.

Jazz managed to extricate himself gently from Prowl and Bumblebee's hold on him to grab the cloth they had been using when he came in and give his digit's a quick clean before he grabbed a few cubes and distributed them.

Bumblebee and Prowl remained leaning against the wall, interfacing panels finally closed while Jazz settled in, cross legged in front of them, knees touching theirs as they all slowly refuelled.

"I gotta say, this is one of the best mission strategy meetin's ahv' ever been to." Jazz commented huskily with a crooked grin.

"Is that what this is?" Prowl asked with unsuppressed amusement, cocking an eyebrow ridge.

"Yea… it is to everyone but Wheeljack." Jazz replied with a hint of his own amusement.

Bumblebee sat up rather straight and his optics widened slightly.

"You didn't… he didn't… did you…"

"He escorted me all the way back here actually. We had a good chat about'cha Bee."

"Oh Primus… I'm not going to be able to look him in the optic for joors." Bumblebee moaned quietly, covering his faceplate with one hand and looking embarrassed.

Jazz chuckled again.

"Funny, that's kinda what he said."

"What exactly were you talking about with him when I got to the rec. room? He Didn't look too pleased to see me, once he got past the shock of actually seeing me." Prowl asked quietly.

"Uuuh… well, you actually. 'Jack is the only bot I've told anything about the last orn to. I was actually asking him to help me figure out what to do about you… not that it matters anymore… and I guess he figured that out?" Bumblebee muttered, looking sheepishly at Jazz.

Jazz merely grinned, taking a good swig of his energon before swirling the contents of his cube out of habit.

Yea, he knows…I was tempted to go into detail just to see how bright I could get his helm panels to flash, but he managed to convince me ta spare him." Jazz said with laughter in his vocals at the look on the minibot's face.

"It'll be a wonder if either of you see each other for the next orn, even if you walk down the same corridor together." Prowl mused, looking both reprimanding at Jazz and sounding like he could barely keep the mirth from his own voice.

"Don't be cruel, or I'll just have to go back to the Twin's berth and hold out on you both." Bumblebee threatened coyly.

The officers gave him a slightly surprised 'yeah right' look, but Prowl's door wings twitched in a manner that belied his true apprehension at that threat. He wasn't sure he was ready to give up this newfound bliss that required the presence of both subjects of his affections. And he _knew_ Jazz was going to be all over his subordinate like cosmic rust, so there was no doubt the threat held weight for him too. The saboteur had a somewhat addictive personality, and Prowl could always pick when Jazz hit on something he loved to the point of distraction. Usually it had to do with music, but likely this wouldn't be all that different.

"Alright, alright, don't go doin' anything hasty there Bee. I really did spare him the details. He spared some himself though. Truth be told, 'Jack was lookin' out for ya. Asked if me n Prowl were serious about bein' with you… which we are by the way." Jazz's tone was now much more sombre and gentle as he looked Bumblebee over critically.

Bumblebee's optics shone with unconcealed emotion at the re-affirmation of the other two's feelings towards him. He doubted they really knew how very much that small reassurance meant to him.

"Yea, Wheeljack's one of my best friends… we've known each other for stellar cycles now, he's seen me through a few other relationships, and they weren't really my best I guess. He doesn't mean anything nasty by it though." Bumblebee explained softly, relaxing back into Prowl's side and pressing one of his knees a little more into Jazz's.

"S'alright, I know he's jus' lookin' out for ya. But I gotta ask, 'cause I never woulda thought any-bot could be nasty to you, and here I'm finding' out you've been on the bad side of love more than once." Jazz said both curious and disbelieving.

"You did seem rather embittered about your relationship standing when I first asked you about it in those caves." Prowl added, obvious curiosity in his own vocals.

Bumblebee looked between them and fidgeted with his servos a little.

"I've never really talked about it with anyone but 'Jack… and even then he only knows the basics from before I met him." Bumblebee admitted in a mumble.

"Ya can talk ta us if it helps. Me n Prowler told each other all about our relationship history from the get go. We'd be happy ta share it with you too if there's anythin' you wanted to know. Everyone's gotta have someone to trust." Jazz said gently, voice sincere.

Bumblebee had absolutely no doubt in his processor that Jazz and Prowl could be trusted. He trusted them with his life, with his physical spark, in every day he worked with them as a member of the Ark. He knew he could trust them with the non-physical aspects of his spark too.

But still that nagging little voice in the back of his CPU warned him against opening up fully to anyone. There was too much hurt in his memory-banks for him to completely ignore the reluctant feeling at the prospect of telling anyone the details he had never revealed to anyone.

Jazz looked a little more concerned as he watched the emotions play over Bumblebee's faceplate.

He gave Prowl a look, but the tactician responded with a gaze that told him to wait and give the minibot a little time.

Bumblebee sighed through his vents, resolving to ignore the nagging misgivings and go with the stronger feeling in his spark that told him these two were nothing like any of the others he'd been with and they would _never_ do the same sorts of things.

"I… don't really know where to start. I suppose… well, you don't really know what I was like before I met Wheeljack… I wasn't _always_ the 'nice-bot'. I mean I was friendly and everything and as happy as I am now, but I was also a bit of a wildcard like Sideswipe. That little devious streak you guys only just found out about was openly displayed for all to see, and that coupled with my paintjob tended to draw more attention to me than I'd be comfortable with these days."

"It wasn't bad, really. Even that young I was interested in finding 'the one' you know? I'm ok on my own, really, I don't mind independence so much… but at the same time I've always got this feeling from time to time that someone else should be with me, like there's someone missing. I'v always got plenty of friends, but you know the difference."

Jazz and Prowl both nodded, listening intently to the smaller mech.

"The first partner I ever had was a femme. Astra. And she was really sweet, she was, but we were both a bit too young and dumb. That was ok though… we were each others firsts, and Primus we were nervous about it, but it was better than losing yourself to some random bot looking for a cheap 'face from someone too young to know better. We hung out for a while, but we started to realise we really weren't right for each other. We stayed close friends until she took a new job in Praxus. She visited me whenever she was in Iacon, but we just lost touch as our lives went different ways."

"Do you… know what happened to her at the beginning of the war? Was she still in Praxus when the Decepticons…" Prowl trailed off as Bumblebee shook his head. Bumblebee was well aware that Prowl didn't finish that sentence because he'd been there during the horrific fall of his own home. Every-bot on the ark knew the names of the small amount of survivors from Praxus. Prowl was one of them.

"I have no idea, actually. I don't even know if she's still online. But unfortunately that's true of a lot of bots I knew well before the war."

Jazz and Prowl nodded again, their own experiences very similar in terms of missing friends, not knowing if they had survived the various horrendous attacks from earlier in the war.

"After Astra, I met this mech… he was incredibly good looking, and funny, and smart, and I completely fell for him the moment he took the slightest bit of interest in me. No point telling you his designation though, I know he changed it, but I never bothered to find out what he reassigned himself… at the time I didn't care. He strung me along, used me, made a joke of me and I was so smitten with him a I didn't realise until he publicly admitted that being with me was all just a joke with his friends."

Jazz's expression, by now, had turned sour, an affronted look plastered on his faceplates.

"He what? Why the frag'd he do that to ya?"

Bumblebee's faceplate turned into a bitter grimace. "He said he just wanted to know what minibots were like to frag, and I'd been the first one to walk through the door of the energon bar when his friends dared him to 'face one. Then he started humiliating me by talking about it, saying stuff about… well, slagging off about how I interfaced with him."

Bumblebee's faceplate fell into a sombre and rather unnatural looking smirk. "I realised much later that he'd had a weird look on his faceplates when he was paying me out because he'd secretly really liked what I did to him. Not that It mattered, I left while he was still bagging me out. And when I say left, I mean I left the place I was staying completely. Put as much distance as I could between me and that aft-head, I ended up moving to Tyger-Pax."

"That's really quite appauling. And… you've never told anyone about that?" Prowl asked, sounding quite shocked and a little concerned.

Bumblebee shook his head. "Who was there to tell? I didn't really want to spread word to my friends that I'd been made a fool of, and Primus only knows it could have started a row, so I muted it. I told Wheeljack quite a while after I met him… after the next disaster actually. But I never told him Ignitor publicly degraded my 'facing methods."

"Ignitor huh? What did ya do for Ignitor that he didn't appreciate properly… anything' you've already given us a taste of?" Jazz asked gently, a purr to his vocals as he asked.

Bumblebee's frown turned instantly into a small smile. "I did manage to perfect my glossa skills on him, and Prowl should know about those first hand now."

Prowl's optics brightened slightly and his faceplate split into a smile as well.

"Primus help any mech that knows about that and gives it up, they would have to have several core components missing in their CPU to do anything so foolish."

Jazz and Bumblebee both laughed quietly.

"And you say there was another 'disaster' after that pit-spawned glitch?" Jazz inquired, sobering a little with a slightly sad look at Bumblebee.

Bumblebee nodded, taking a long draught of his energon.

"Yea… possibly the worst rebound ever. Met him around the same time I first met Wheeljack.

I worked for a long time as a courier mech in Tyger-Pax, and I made long-distance deliveries because I was one of the few mechs who liked the long drives. Apart from that I tended to become really good friends with the regular delivery takers."

"Wheeljack got all kinds of things every orn and I was his personal delivery bot, but there was another mech I always took the packages for. He lived in the few tower districts there were, but he wasn't really nobility. Acted like it though. Total-gentlemech. Stunning and charming and lively… everything I liked, and he was always nice to me to boot. I was wary, because of Ignitor, but he seemed genuine. Fitting really… Sunstorm became a Decepticon when the war started, and in retrospect it doesn't surprise me at all."

"Wait, _Sunstorm?_ …Isn't he a…"

"Seeker. Yeah. And before you ask, the rumours _are_ true if he's anything to go by. They're pretty much _always_ up for a 'face. Just not usually with anyone who isn't also a seeker. That's why I was so surprised when he was inviting me to stay for drinks and then asking me out a few times until I gave in and said yes."

"It was really good at the time. I really thought he liked me. We bounced off each other in social situations, people thought we were the weirdest couple, but we were the life of the party, two bright yellow mechs making jokes and being social cyber-butterflies. I always felt a little bit like he was showing me off, but I ignored it at the time cause he'd listen to me when I talked to him. There were quite a few fliers at the parties he took me to, but they never really seemed interested in me as anything more than a novelty."

"It took about four orns for him to charm me into 'facing with him. It was really something else, but that's when I started to notice stuff being a bit…off. He was always in control, but he was so smooth about it I never paid it much mind. Then he started wanting to get adventurous…"

"One cycle we went back to his place after a party, and we were both a bit overcharged. Him more so than me, and he was eager for a 'face. I was kinda tired, I'd delivered to Wheeljack and a few others that day and gone to the party after, so I was about ready for a nice long recharge. That's when he got insistent. He started on me and I was too tired to bother fending him off, so I let him _grope_ me, for lack of a better word… but then he got rough… I tried to get him to stop but he was so overcharged, he completely dropped the nice-mech thing and I got to see what he was really like, what he'd been leading up to trying for all along. He just wanted me to please himself, he made a great show of caring to get me to do what he wanted without resisting… got me to _adore_ him. And after all that he… forced himself on me, and I was too overcharged to do much more than put up with it and wait for him to stop."

Bumblebee's faceplates were burning at the mere memory of that shameful night. The betrayal still stung, even though now that same mech was a decepticon and his actions would be no less than expected in current times…

Prowl and Jazz were both gazing at him open mouthed, at a loss for anything to say at the revelation Bumblebee had pretty much been _raped_ by a seeker… never mind that it was before the war, the fact that any-bot would even do that to Bumblebee of all mechs. The two couldn't think of anything to say, and Bumblebee seemed unfazed enough to continue on without seeming to care as much about his revelation as they did.

"'Course I broke it off the next day. I was angry it had happened again, me getting my spark broken, and I couldn't hide it. I drove out to Wheeljack's to get away, and ended up telling him what happened, and that I was so angry because of Ignitor before, and I didn't understand why I was only wanted as a berth buddy and never seen as someone with feelings...

Wheeljack understood. He told me he'd known a lot of minibots that had the same problem, they were treated like novelties rather than equal partners. That's why a lot of other minibots act all tough and angry, they want to be taken seriously and not just seen as cheap 'faces or tight valves."

"But I couldn't do that… tough and angry just aren't in my nature. After that though, I stopped drawing so much attention to myself. I turned into the nice mech, all I wanted was friends for a while, I curbed my wildcard behaviour. Wheeljack moved to a bigger lab back in Iacon and I transferred back there too, 'cause by that time he and I were hanging out a lot and I was meeting some of his old science academy buddies. I made a whole lot more friends at my new courier base. I went really slowly with anyone I met and really liked. But my innocent little Bumblebee thing was working too well by then. I was comfortable with being that way, but I found no one saw me as anything more than a friend anymore. The few bots I asked out rejected me because they just didn't see me as the intimate relationship type… they didn't know I wasn't just some happy little buddy with no aspirations for love. Some were so shocked I asked they sounded a lot ruder than they meant to I think, but… well… it still hurt. After a while I kinda resigned myself to stop trying."

One of Prowl's arms had snaked around Bumblebee's waist and pulled him tighter to the tactician's side as he trailed off and took another long draught of energon. Prowl had barely sipped his, so engrossed was he in Bumblebee's history. He never would have thought Bumblebee, of all mechs, could have such a bad run of relationship experiences in his life-stream. And yet despite being taken advantage of time and time again he still had the capacity to be the cheeriest bot on the ark. He still trusted enough to try again.

Prowl couldn't put into words the admiration he felt for Bumblebee right then, so instead he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Bumblebee's helm.

"It's about time you had someone to make up for all the slag you've taken." Prowl murmured almost apologetically

"Even better, he's got two bots to make it up ta him." Jazz added firmly, rocking forward and catching himself on the wall with a servo next to Bumblebee's helm as he leant his faceplate down and captured the smaller bot's lips in his own. The kiss was sudden and searing with emotion, but Bumblebee, surprised as he was by the action, reciprocated instantly and easily, feeling a little overwhelmed by his own recollected bad experiences and eager to drown himself in the warmth of the action.

"'Jack really is a good friend to ya. Ahm not surprised he was lookin' out for you with us, even if it is _us_." Jazz said softly as he finally pulled away.

"We'd never put you through _anything_ like that intentionally, and Primus I'm sorry I nearly did." Prowl muttered into his helm, squeezing his arm around Bumblebee's waist again in apology.

"S'not your fault, you didn't know about my poor choices, and they were _my_ poor choices after all. I was dumb enough to believe good looking charmers were actually interested in me for more than just my valve." Bumblebee said, half apologetic, half wryly shameful.

Prowl frowned. "Surely they didn't only ever just interface with you through your port? Why waste such a good spike? It's just not logical."

Bumblebee couldn't help the smile that crept slightly over his faceplate. It still seemed funny to hear _Prowl_ of all mechs talking freely and candidly about interfacing.

"Ignitor let me spike him a few times… Sunstorm humoured me once… Astra was the most considerate partner I ever had, but being each others firsts we weren't much good at it the few times we actually fully interfaced. And that one night thing with me and Cliffjumper… that doesn't really count as anything, and we agreed never to do it again, because… well, it was kinda like self-interfacing… we're so similar in that department that it was more weird than anything."

Neither of the other two mechs were surprised by the afterthought mention of Cliffjumper… Prowl because he'd known through Red Alert, and Jazz because he knew almost everything that went on one way or another.

"'N how many times have ya FULLY interfaced? Had a two-way connection?" Jazz asked with the purr still in his vocals as he grinned lopsidedly at the minibot, sitting back on his aft again, legs crossed but elbows on his knees as he leant as far forward as he could to the two before him.

"At least five or six… I don't know if what the Twins did counts…" Bumblebee replied, trying to count the times he could recall on his servo.

"Five or… primus, ya shouldn't be able to keep count! Those good fer nothing's couldn't even 'face ya right. And no that don't count, that Twin thing's in it's own category." Jazz replied with a wide grin.

Bumblebee felt one of Prowl's wings twitch behind him and he uttered a soft 'humph'.

The spy looked up at him and was met with nearly indigo optics.

"I know you said we had surpassed those incorrigible Lamborghinis, but I'm afraid I'm still peaking on this ridiculous glitch of mine and feel it's my duty to provide you with an adequate experience in the field you are sorely lacking in…" Prowl said, his vocals soft and so very tempting.

Bumblebee's smile turned coy. He loved it when Prowl made formal offers to frag him. "Can't say I have any objections, especially not if it's to help you with your glitch. So long as Jazz doesn't mind being the voyeur here…"

Jazz's visor glowed a little darker as Bumblebee's mischievous optics shined on him.

"O' course I mind! I ain't gonna sit here doin' nothing' when I wanna get my servos in ya seams."

"Don't worry Bumblebee, Jazz won't be left out. I'm sure we can multitask well enough with our own servos." Prowl purred as Bumblebee finished his cube and Prowl did the same, downing it's whole contents much quicker than Bumblebee would have credited him able to.

"Now, which way is more comfortable for you?" Prowl asked softly as Bumblebee climbed between his legs.

Bumblebee considered the logistics of the necessary positions and the fact that he wanted to be able to touch Jazz as well as connect to Prowl. Unfortunately only one option seemed feasible given he was a minibot and couldn't really over-extend his spike a great deal.

"Well… the only way I think we'll be able to form a loop connection is if I'm flat on my front on the berth so our arrays line up… I don't think I'd be able to reach if we tried a cross-over." Bumblebee pouted slightly, his faceplates glowing a little with embarrassment over not being able to connect in the same way larger mechs could.

His fingers idly brushed over Prowl's hip plating as the enforcer's own fingers trailed slowly over his sides, almost in a soothing manner, though Bumblebee could discern the little twitches that betrayed Prowl's refreshed arousal.

"I see… and you're not keen on that because it leaves you limited ability to reciprocate?" Prowl murmured in understanding, drawing Bumblebee a little closer as he pondered on the slight problem.

"Hmmm, I think we can make it work… how 'bout we make it a round? Ya can reach me Bee, n' I can reach Prowl, and he'll be doin' all the work on you… sound appealin'?" Jazz suggested in an all too enticing voice.

Bumblebee's optics lit up a little more as the image sent a tingle of heat through his circuits… oh Primus, that did sound like it would be nice…

Prowl smiled softly at the minibot's expression. "I think he likes that idea." Prowl said with un-concealed amusement.

Bumblebee smiled coyly again and brushed his fingertips ever so lightly over Prowls panel, feeling how it was rapidly heating once more.

Prowl, after shuddering at the feather light caress, took Bumblebee's servos and turned him slowly around, crossing them over Bumblebee's chassis as the minibot gave him an enquiring look.

Prowl shook his head with a widening smile and turned his optics to Jazz.

"Jazz will be working on my panel. You get to play with his… and I get yours all to myself." Prowl crooned in Bumblebee's audio, making the minibot let out a soft sighing moan as Prowl's chassis pressed lightly into his back and his engine rumbled with lust.

Bumblebee allowed himself to be lowered to the berth by the tactician, who was lightly mouthing the back of his neck column. Once he had gotten comfortable on his front, he made sure his arms were free to reach Jazz, who scooted in closer. The saboteur allowed the minibot to take his hips and gently guide him into place… Bumblebee brought him in as close as possible, making sure he could touch Jazz's panel with his nose ridge. He nuzzled it a little, fingering the seams of Jazz's hip plating and drawing a soft humming moan of delight from the Porsche.

Behind Bumblebee, Prowl was carefully getting himself into a comfortable position, adjusting Bumblebee's legs. He sat between them with the beetle's knees on either side of his hips, his own legs bent up over Bumblebee's hips, pedes resting far out to sit level just behind the line of the minibot's shoulders. He did not bring their interfacing components close together yet because he wanted to have good access to the yellow panel first.

However, he would have to conduct his work by feel, because Jazz reached out for him over Bumblebee's back and drew him into a passionate kiss, moaning into the tactician's mouth, glossa lashing wildly at Prowl's own as Bumblebee began lavishing attention on the black codpiece before him.

Jazz would have loved to play with the yellow helm horns beneath him, but he knew the rules of this game well, and it wouldn't do for him to break them when he'd been the one to suggest it…

So instead he reached his servos up to the datsun's helm and stroked the red chevron plates firmly, causing the black and white's door wings to hitch and quiver as he moaned right back into the kiss.

Prowl knew how this worked… he'd never done it before, amazingly, but it was starting to thrill him already.

Rather than reaching out to reciprocate his Porsche lover's touches, he slid his white servos down the yellow back plating beneath him and drew his thumbs firmly down the planes of Bumblebee's aft, continuing the pressing strokes down the centre of the back of Bumblebee's thighs before kneading the black plating on their insides.

Bumblebee gasped and mewled, one of his servos trailing down the inside seam of Jazz's hip and thigh as his glossa lapped hard at the warm panel. He was reacting to Prowl's touches and transferring the pleasure to Jazz, who then transferred that pleasure to Prowl… it was the most delicious cycle, and the three quickly worked each other up, the heat between their forms rising.

Bumblebee quivered as Jazz moaned hotly and Prowl opened his yellow panel.

Bumblebee followed his lead, pressing a digit to the black metal plating now covered in his oral fluids and sliding it away to reveal Jazz's interfacing array once more.

Jazz curled over the minibot's form, panting, and reached for Prowl's codpiece, massaging it before opening it.

He then took one of Prowl's servos in his own and repeated Prowl's actions from earlier in their activities, grasping the back plating of the white hand and guiding it to Bumblebee's valve before plunging one of Prowl's fingers in.

A hot, hard lick over Jazz's spike housing was his reward from the minibot, and he slipped every one of Prowl's digits into the smaller mech's port with responsive laves from the beetle.

"That's cheating." Prowl stated, more amused than anything else.

"Nnnn… not really… just needed something' a yours to occupy mah mouth… just had to flavour it first." Jazz purred softly, his voice husky with arousal, before he slipped Prowl's fingers into his mouth, one by one, slowly sucking and lapping Bumblebee's lubricant off them.

Jazz used his other free servo to free Prowl's spike from it's housing. It slid willingly forward, pressurising almost instantly. Jazz smiled around Prowl's fingers as the datsun panted.

One of the best things about his lover's heats was that the tactician was _always_ ready and required minimal work-up. But Jazz would give it to him anyway, mostly because he craved the sounds the datsun would make in this state of heightened arousal.

While Jazz worked on his spike and suckled Bumblebee's lubricant's from his fingers, Prowl used his other servo to pop out Bumblebee's cord, and he began to lavish skilled attention on it with the one servo, brushing his thumb gently over the minibot's valve as well, both to stimulate more lubrication and to check that the yellow mech's nanites were healing up his small over-stretching injuries sufficiently.

It seemed they were, because Bumblebee's legs drew in around Prowl's aft with a soft clank and he moaned into Jazz's port before sticking his glossa right in and nuzzling as hard as he could.

Jazz cried out, his grip on Prowl's cord firming slightly as he ventilated exceptionally warm air over the white fingers still on the edge of his lip-plates.

Bumblebee was driving him _crazy._ Suddenly he understood how easily Prowl had been reduced to a helpless lustful wreck when the minibot exacted his revenge in the first place…

For a mech who generally didn't face much, Bumblebee was so incredibly skilled with his glossa.

Jazz couldn't help the pants and whines of pleasure that fell from him as the spy's glossa stimulated every sensor near his valve entrance while rubbing a thumb teasingly over the tip of his still recessed spike.

Jazz urged Prowl's spike toward the minibot's entrance, hoping it would spur Bumblebee into ceasing the torture that was driving him wild.

Prowl complied, still working over Bumblebee's spike with one servo, the other (now freed from Jazz's mouth) assisting him to shift forward so that he could press their interfacing arrays together.

Jazz lined Prowl's spike up with Bumblebee's dripping port as the datsun lined Bumblebee's black and yellow cord up with his own very wet entrance.

Jazz teased Bumblebee's opening with the tip of Prowl's spike, earning him a nip on the edge of his own valve, making him yelp and buck against the surge of intense arousal it caused him.

Prowl snickered despite himself and pushed forward, savouring intently the feeling of sliding into Bumblebee's tight, wet heat while the minibot's cord penetrated him at the same time.

He let out an unrestrained moan, but Bumblebee was silent, even though his engine gave off a very loud rev.

Instead of making a noise, he placed his lips around Jazz's spike housing and released the catches either side. Jazz's already pressurised cord sprang straight into Bumblebee's awaiting mouth, where his glossa immediately began to lavish attention on the saboteur's spike.

Jazz made a very ungainly chocking noise above him, engine sputtering. His vents whined with the effort of trying to cool his circuits. He nearly lost it right then, groaning and grunting loudly as Bumblebee sucked hard, pulling more of his cord from it's recess.

 _Primus_ how could _any_ bot treat him badly if he'd ever done _this_ for them? Jazz felt like lavishing worshiping kisses on the spy, but instead he reached for the other black and white, pulling him close enough to plunge his fingers into the seams either side of the Datsun's bumper, mercilessly caressing wires and nodes level with his lover's spark chamber on both sides.

Prowl arched forward into the touches, sliding his and Bumblebee's interfacing components into one another.

Bumblebee did moan as Prowl began moving back and forward slowly, and he was _loud._

Prowl knew why. He was using the vibrations to stimulate the cord that he was trying to take deeper into his throat. The sight of the minibot taking so much of Jazz's spike into his mouth and the expressions it was causing on the Porsche's face made Prowl's engine rev lustfully.

Prowl's servos traced absently over Bumblebee's hips and back plating, stroking experimentally, trying to find new sensors to attend to while his hips rocked back and forward lazily, sweeping waves of steady pleasure through both of them.

His hands slid idly around the front of Bumblebee's gently squirming midriff.

The minibot stiffened suddenly as the white digits passed over two spots directly under the corners of his lower windshield.

Prowl's hands paused as Bumblebee trembled with what seemed to be shocked surprise and a sudden palpable tension.

Curious, Prowl pressed down on the spots.

Jazz gasped and huffed as Bumblebee pretty much screamed in pleasure around his cord.

Tremors of ecstasy ran through the yellow frame, suddenly squirming like mad as Prowl began to rub slow, firm circles on the hotspots he'd found.

They weren't just any old hidden sensors… they were _it_ … Prowl and Jazz shared a triumphant, lustful gaze at the discovery.

Every mech had several spots on their frame, multiple sensors that responded especially well to pleasurable stimuli… but every mech also had one hotspot that when touched the right way could drive them absolutely incoherent with pleasure. Usually these sensor bundles were unassuming and related to an individual's transformation array… hence they were usually in somewhat random places, and different on every bot. Finding them was one of the highlights of the beginnings of a partnership's intimacy.

And Prowl had just uncovered Bumblebee's secret sweet-spot.

He gave the points a few more gentle caresses, earning wild bucks and moans of bliss from the yellow bot before he moved his digits up Bumblebee's sides and stroked the glass of his windows.

Bumblebee collapsed back onto the berth, shuddering with his heightened arousal and signal receptivity from the stimulation of his personal hot spots.

He groaned around Jazz's cord, sucking harder and slipping his digits into the streaming port below.

He was glad Prowl moved on from the area for now, or he would have overloaded before they had even connected.

To cool himself down a little and stave off the climax until they were ready, Bumblebee focused on trying to take Jazz deeper into his throat. He knew it was possible, Jazz wasn't too big for him, but he'd never been able to go past a certain point… he couldn't help the gag-reflex programmed to stop various solid contaminants from reaching his tank and fuel processor.

He made a little noise of frustration and pumped Jazz's port a little harder as he failed to overcome the reflex every time he tried.

"Mmnhhh…. s-swallow… Bee…. Gotta relax and… jus' swallow…" Jazz panted over his helm.

Prowl, realising what was going on, assisted by running a servo firmly and repeatedly down Bumblebee's back strut, effectively helping him relax. The trick was old, something that always relaxed sparklings, but seemed to work well even on full-frame mechs.

Bumblebee nodded and hummed his thanks, trying again, only this time, rather than just sliding the spike further into his mouth, he drew it down his intake by swallowing continuously.

Jazz gave a shuddering moan as the minibot quickly picked it up and took his entire length in, nose ridge bumping the saboteur's pelvis.

It didn't last long though, because Prowl thrust far enough forward for their interfacing panels to touch, and Bumblebee magnetised his spike automatically.

Prowl gasped and keened quietly at the sudden inflow of pleasurable data through the link. But he did not complete the connection.

Bumblebee twisted his helm to the side slowly, trying to throw the tactician an enquiring look, Jazz's length leaving his mouth until only the tip remained.

He played his glossa over the connector pins in it's hub absently, Jazz making little strangled sounds of pleasure.

"Bear with me Bee." Prowl murmured over his audial before gasping at Jazz's fevered attentions in his seams.

Prowl began moving his hips again, and Bumblebee immediately understood what he was doing.

He gasped and pressed his fingers deeper into Jazz as Prowl's cord moved in him while he was connected to the Tactician. Feedback from the sensations it caused in his own port went through to Prowl via Bumblebee's cord and echoed back to the minibot. It was an incredibly heady sensation, being plugged into another while the other's pike still _moved_ inside you… Prowl couldn't thrust it too far because he didn't want to strain the minibot's cord, but even the small movement had them both quivering and moaning.

Reaching a servo down between them after about a klik of this, Prowl lightly pulled on the base of Bumblebee's cord and the minibot disconnected, trusting that whatever the datsun's intentions were they would only bring him further pleasure, so he went along without question.

Once Bumblebee had disconnected, Prowl quickly plugged into him. The two made more heated sounds as Prowl repeated the process in reverse, Bumblebee's cord now sliding through him as pleasure signals swept across his connection to the minibot.

Prowl hilted Bumblebee in him and then drew away slightly, clenching his valve and feeling quite acutely just how sweet the sensations were that he caused to the beetle's cord through feedback.

Bumblebee mewled loudly, acting out his reactions to the exquisite sensations on Jazz's interface array.

It felt extremely good to take the Porsche's cord all the way into his mouth and suck hard while pressing firm strokes into the saboteur's port, feeling it clench wildly around his digits.

Jazz shuddered and moaned, telling Prowl he wouldn't hold out much longer by digging his fingers deep into the seams of the tactician's hips and pulling him gently closer.

Prowl took the hint and pressed his array right into Bumblebee's, grinding his hips gently against the minibot's.

Bumblebee understood, and magnetised his spike once more.

He and Prowl both let out keens of pleasure as the loop connection was established.

Their cooling fans, already humming away, buzzed loudly as they writhed weakly against each other.

Prowl's servos ran hurriedly over Bumblebee's plating, feeling intensely the tingles it was sending through the spy's frame.

Jazz was nearly incoherent with the sensations Bumblebee was sending through his intefacing array, but when the minibot started to take his whole length in with renewed vigour and moans of desire, Jazz realised he could now really reciprocate… and it was as easy as driving Prowl wild, because it would go straight through the loop connection.

Jazz ran his hands over the insides of Prowl's thighs, dipping digits into seams and stroking wires hard. He trailed his thumbs up the seems and plunged them into wide gaps between Prowl's leg and hip armour left exposed due to the position of his legs.

Prowl bucked into Bumblebee and the Minibot mewled as he felt waves of heated desire pour through the connection.

Prowl's own lust at Jazz's touch echoed back to him through Bumblebee, and impulsively his fingers strayed to the spy's newly discovered hot spots.

That was the beginning of the end.

Bumblebee cried out in pleasure around the entire length of Jazz in his mouth, fingers hilting in the saboteur's port, jerking and wriggling against sensors.

As Bumblebee's overload exploded though the connection, Prowl let out an erotic cry, pressing the minibot's hot-spots hard, feeling the ecstasy roll in hot waves through to him, sending him over as well.

Jazz was brought with them by Bumblebee of course, valve clenching and filling with fresh lubricant, his cord stiffening and running hot with ungrounded electrical discharge as it lit up his whole sensory system, causing him to let out a strangled "Nggghaaaaaaaaa!"

The overload lasted twice as long as Bumblebee expected with the loop. He felt the feedback of Jazz's fingers deep in Prowl's leg joints even as Prowl made him buck by stimulating his sweet-spots feverishly with his servos.

Bumblebee sucked hard on the saboteur's cord in response, fingers still jerking into the port with loud squelching sounds. After at least a whole half a klik, the sensations began to die down, allowing him to half collapse onto the berth surface again, vents cycling hard. He trembled violently from the after pangs that tingled through his systems, and slowly he drew off of Jazz's spike, leaving the tip in his mouth as he sighed and rested his helm on one of the white thighs, his fingers now slowly massaging the walls of the Porsche's still spasming valve.

Jazz and Prowl were leant over Bumblebee, helms resting against one another as they panted. Jazz's hands gave Prowl's hip joints a few more gentle probes before he brought his servos to the tactician's face, angling the white helm up slowly to claim the datsun's lips for a brief, sated kiss.

When they broke apart, the three remained where they were for at least another klik, letting their systems reset and frames cool.

Jazz hummed in contentment as Bumblebee released his cord from his mouth and gave it a few gentle licks along the length before coaxing it back into it's housing.

Bumblebee then drew the rest of his fingers out of Jazz, licking them clean and nuzzling his cheek affectionately into the white thigh plating by his helm. He was in a daze of soft, comfortable, hazy bliss, not unlike how he had been wrapped in Sideswipe's arms last night, except the two officers had managed to get him to that state without high-grade.

Prowl was running his fingers gently across Bumblebee's lower back plating again, feeling the soothing signals and gentle thrum of pleasure through their still connected interfaces.

Jazz rested a servo on Bumblebee's helm, running a thumb gently over one of the yellow horns with a satisfied sigh.

His systems were _still_ buzzing with blissful tingles as he watched the spy clean Jazz's own essence from his fingers, warm faceplate rubbing pleasantly into the inside of his leg.

"I'll be honest with ya 'Bee. Ahv had plenty of mechs do this fer me in my time… but I swear to Primus _none_ of em' have made me overload _that_ hard doin' it."

"Mmmm… so you are… er _were_ as prolific as bots hinted you were?" Bumblebee enquired, finishing the cleaning of one hand and starting on the other, shooting Jazz a pleased but curious look.

"Heh. Well, I don't wanna make it sound like braggin'…"

"Liar." Prowl purred with amusement as he continued to stoke Bumblebee's back-plating.

Jazz grinned guiltily. "You ain't one to talk Prowler, yer just as big headed about bein' the one to make me so much more exclusive."

Prowl snorted. "So you say." But there was no malice in his tone. If anything he seemed affectionate.

Jazz huffed. "Well, what's a bot gonna do when his lover ain't free an his circuits are burnin'? Ya know you're mah preference… even though ya gonna be sharing' me now. I may yet become a two bot only mech."

Prowl actually laughed lightly, the sound sending pleasant tingles through Bumblebee's sensor net.

"That will be the joor Jazz. You're as insatiable as me, it's just that your needs tend to spread out more evenly. And If Bumblebee or I aren't free, I know you won't say no to the nearest other mech that you deem needs a 'face as much as you do."

Jazz laughed huskily. "How 'bout you Bee? How often am I gonna have ta pounce ya to keep you happy?"

Bumblebee licked the last of the lubricant from his servos and eyed Jazz's dripping valve with deviously shinning optics.

"Hmmm. Not sure, really. Truth is I'm pretty much always up for a 'face, but that might be because I wasn't getting any for so long… might find I'm just happy to do _this_ for you when you want it-" He emphasised his point by ducking his head and giving Jazz's entrance another firm lap with his glossa, making Jazz gasp, "…or it could be you won't be able to keep up with me, we'll have to see."

Prowl's engine purred behind him as the tactician finally moved to disconnect them both.

"I seriously doubt you'll be able to wear us both out before you're spent." He assured the minibot playfully as he unplugged both their spikes and pulled out.

Bumblebee moaned softly against Jazz's port entrance as Prowl's and his cords slid out of one another, sending small after pangs of pleasure through their valve sensors.

Jazz gave out another pleasured hum as Bumblebee lapped up all the excess lubricant coating the outside of his port messily.

"Honestly…" Bumblebee murmured between laps, Jazz's thumb twitching against his helm horn.

"…I'm surprised *lick* I've even *lap* held out this long *slurp* and still been up for more. I've never *lave* had this many overloads *lick* in a row."

Jazz grunted softly, quivering again as he felt his cooling fans threaten to kick up a notch once more.

"Nnngh… keep that up an' you'll likely be adding to the count." Jazz said in a slightly strained voice.

"Well, it would round things off nicely if you got to experience Bumblebee's considerable talent with his spike. I don't believe you have yet." Prowl purred with still dark optics, a very sultry smile playing on his faceplate.

"I don't know about talent, I just do what feels good." Bumblebee half giggled as he finished cleaning the lubricant from Jazz's port, knowing he was likely about to spread more anyway. That thought alone sent a tingle through his circuits. He looked up at Jazz, who gave him an undeniably eager look.

"Well, if ya don't think you're that skilled, I got no objections to being your practice bot." Jazz growled, fans finally whirring again as Bumblebee slowly pulled himself up and drew his chassis up against Jazz's, digits tracing up transformation seams as he went.

Jazz shivered with pleasurable anticipation, his sensor net incredibly on edge after all the overloads he'd had in the past… checking his chronometer quickly, he found it had only been a cycle and a half.

He could tell from looking at the unusually deep hue of Bumblebee's optics that his small companion had never experienced a haze of bliss quite like this. He had slipped completely from his cheery, friendly demeanour and right into that hidden wild side… It was very similar to when Prowl would fall into one of his uncharacteristic heats, except it seemed even more intense with Bumblebee because the personality difference was quite stark to what he was used to.

However, it proved to be quite the turn on.

Jazz wrapped his servos around Bumblebee's waist, pulling him up gently into a searing kiss, glossa plunging into the smaller mouth to sample the minibot's taste laced with his own traces.

Bumblebee moaned and his digits slid up under Jazz's bumper, diving right into wires and finding sensor nodes to stroke.

Jazz gasped and squirmed, his plating grinding wonderfully against Bumblebee's, both of them enjoying the sensations it sent through them, but Jazz quickly wanted something more intense, his patience worn to nothing after their last drawn out session in which the minibot had teased him senseless.

Jazz's servo swiftly travelled south and came across Bumblebee's cord, still covered in Prowl's fluids.

It didn't take Jazz long to have the black and yellow cable pressurised again, Bumblebee rocking against him and letting out quiet mewls into the neck cables he was mouthing.

Jazz didn't need to encourage Bumblebee to lower his hips and line himself up. He did move his servos back to the minibot's sides as the yellow beetle pressed against his entrance.

Jazz sighed in satisfaction as the spy's spike pushed through the hot, soft platelets of his entrance and up into his thoroughly over-sensitised valve.

Jazz drew his thumbs around to the minibot's front and curiously tested the spots Prowl had found just under the corners of the lower windshield.

Bumblebee gasped and whined, pressing hard into the wires under Jazz's chassis and arching against him.

"NGH! Don't, o-or… I'll- _ah-_ o-overload bef-fore I… even…"

Jazz chuckled at the husky tone to Bumblebee's voice as he struggled to object to Jazz's touch while pressing into it. Jazz moved his fingers on, satisfied at having at least been able to test the sweet spots himself.

Bumblebee retaliated by gnawing lightly on his bumper and making one or two quicker thrusts into him.

Prowl had been quite content to sit back and watch the spectacle unfold before him. It reminded him strongly of the dream he had last had, a thrill going through him to see his fantasies still playing out for real. His wings twitched as his dull, hot itch flared seeing Bumblebee push into Jazz.

It turned out quite differently to his dream though… because once Bumblebee started a slow, easy rhythm within the saboteur, the visor glowed over the Minibot's helm and Jazz motioned Prowl over to them.

"Don't think we've forgotten about you Prowler… c'mere, I know you'll be sore tomorrow anyway, but I wanna play with your wings, I haven't overloaded you using just those in a while."

Prowl smiled widely, optics flashing as he scooted across the berth and presented his back to Jazz, pressing lightly against Bumblebee, who made sure to press his aft firmly into Prowls on an outward stroke before plunging slowly and deeply into Jazz's slick, hot port again.

"Nnnn, Prowl wasn't lyin' Bee, you're slaggin' _good_ with that thing." the Porsche moaned softly as his servos reached out to map the expanse of the quivering sensory appendages Prowl presented to him.

Bumblebee was merely reminded with the praise why he felt so much… so much _more_ for the two mechs with him, than he'd ever felt for anyone. As he made deliberate movements to stimulate every angle of Jazz's valve that he could, wanting to give him all the pleasure he could, wanting him to know how good they both made him feel… he realised that the feelings he had for them were the same as ever, yet suddenly magnified and brought to some kind of wonderful fullness that they had been lacking in before.

He supposed it was that he had finally… _finally_ after vorns, entrusted others with his deep-set emotional scars… and had found acceptance and a depth of affection from two mechs he already admired and cared about.

The fact that their acceptance and affection was in the form of 'facing like he had never experienced before was something of a pleasant bonus.

Bumblebee's pace was stimulated to quickening by Prowl writhing and moaning at his back while Jazz panted, smiling and running his servos expertly over the Datsun's door-wings, knowing with practiced ease just how to fire up Prowl's sensor-net intensely.

Bumblebee could tell now when Jazz started to reach his limit. He hadn't expected any of them to last long really, but the more the saboteur bucked and twitched and mewled, the closer he was to the edge.

Bumblebee shifted his hips, and Jazz automatically compensated, curling into himself more, gaining better access to Prowl's doors (which quivered and twitched, as did their owner), and allowing Bumblebee a particularly good angle.

The minibot thrust harder now, reaching far deeper into the clenching valve as Jazz gasped and made incoherent noises of pleasure, digging his fingers into the hinges of Prowl's doors.

Bumblebee magnetised his spike and plugged into Jazz, sending a steady stream of energy through the link, which made the Porsche shiver violently and dig deeper into Prowl's wing joints.

Prowl leant back into Bumblebee, and Jazz could feel how comfortable the pressure felt to the spy through the link.

Jazz sent back echoes of the pleasure resonating from the sensors in his chassis, where Bumblebee's servos now played around his headlights.

Prowl gasped, rendered silent by the intensity of pleasure from his over sensitised and under-stimulated wings. Leaving them untouched during their last overload had built excess charge in the sensory circuits, and Jazz was pinging the energy off bit by bit, sending it back to his main systems until he felt himself teetering on the edge.

Jazz felt the stiffness in Prowl's wings that meant he was near overload, and so sent a strong spark pulse to Bumblebee. The minibot gasped and bucked, and then sent a torrent of hot energy right back to Jazz.

Jazz one-upped the spark pulse sent by Bee with a smile and a growl of lust, surging a strong charge right back.

He was keeping Prowl right on the edge, and the tactician whined softly in desperation, but Jazz wasn't going to let him go until himself or Bumblebee could bring them both along at the same time.

As it was, Bumblebee got the upper hand on him, snaking a servo out from under his bumper and quickly wrapping it around the saboteur's cord.

He stroked it firmly and bit down on the Porsche's bumper once more, then sent as strong a spark pulse as he could muster through the connection.

Jazz went over with a yell, trembling and twitching wildly under the minibot's sensual and oh-so-delicious assault.

Bumblebee moaned into his Bumper, following as Jazz's overload crashed through the connection and blossomed across his circuits like intense and blissful fire.

He felt Prowl stiffen and heat washed across his back-plates from the tactician, who let out a long, soft, quavering moan as Jazz finally pinched the wires deep in his hinges, sending him into a cascading release with them.

When the pleasure ebbed across their circuits and settled to a dull thrum of warmth, they relaxed against one another, fans working madly to cool circuits and plating that was scorching from their charge releases.

After silently resting and panting together in a blissful pile for at least a breem, they finally made to move, Prowl rocking forward, door-wings twitching with the movement as he turned and swung his legs over the edge of the berth and gazed over at the other two.

Jazz beamed at him as Prowl's very satisfied smile and loving optics fixed on the other two.

Bumblebee slid back off Jazz, disconnecting and sighing with the saboteur at the dull echoes of warm pleasure that buzzed through their interfacing components as they parted.

"Ah think we better hit the shower, as the humans would say." Jazz purred lightly, his usual lopsided grin firmly in place.

Bumblebee and Prowl nodded, the yellow mech looking around to share an affectionate glance with the tactician, feeling again that exceptional, wonderful, warm, _wanted_ feeling.

Prowls optics had lightened again, and Bumblebee could only guess it meant they'd managed to work him through his 'heat' for now. Truth be told, the beetle was looking forward to a nice cool wash to clean the fluids and mass of paint scratches he'd accumulated throughout the past cycle and a half of their … activities.

Bumblebee didn't bother to suppress the small smile that thinking about it brought to his faceplate.

He and Jazz followed Prowl to his private wash racks, which were easily as big as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's, even though they were only for one mech.

The three of them got under the shower-head and Prowl adjusted the temperature and flow. Cooling, solvent-rich water poured over them in a pleasant, wide cast of droplets.

They each helped clean one another of the paint and lubricant, talking idly as they might if they were in the communal wash-racks.

"So you said I could ask you about your previous relationship histories… either of you luck out the way I did at any stage?" Bumblebee asked curiously as he worked on a stubborn yellow streak on Jazz's hip plates.

"Well, I don't think I was ever really lookin' for a permanent partner 'till I came across Prowl. But before that, well… ya asked me before if I was as prolific as you've heard… chances are ya ain't heard the half of it. Not ta brag or anythin'. I just don't like to see anyone suffer needlessly when I can help em out. An a lot a bot's around me need that kinda help." He paused with a low chuckle before adding, "Woulda helped _you_ sooner, but slag it all if ya ain't good at hidin' that wild side of yours."

"So… have you done _everyone_ on the Ark except me?" Bumblebee teased as the Porsche worked a solvent soaked rag over a black mark on his helm. Jazz flicked the nearest of Bumblebee's horns affectionately.

"Nah, o course I haven't! They don't _all_ need mah help. N' half the ones that did before don't anymore. Nah, before the Ark or the war I used to work DJ gigs in Iacon, but you knew that. What I don't usually say about it is the number of random mechs or femmes I'd have casual 'faces with. Not every night, Primus forbid my port woulda ached from here to the pit. But like I said… none of us was ever lookin' for more than a good 'face. It was the golden age, all anyone was interested in in those places was plating deep pleasure. I only really chased one or two bots before the war, n they were never really 'the ones', and I kinda knew it, but it never bothered me much... Till I joined the Ark and a certain SIC caught my optic."

Bumblebee giggled a little. "Yea, that bit I remember. One minute you were pestering him. The next you left him totally cold turkey, switching it on and off like a light, you mean fragger."

"Mmnh. Drove me insane." Prowl half grouched, half purred, moving to roughly clean the inside of Jazz's thigh plates.

The saboteur wriggled a little and his grin widened. "You loved it."

"I did when I realised it wasn't some bizarre form of harassment and you weren't glitched." Prowl murmured with a small, affectionate smile as Jazz got to work on a black streak on one of the tactician's door-wings.

"In the end it turned out you were only flirting, not harassing." Prowl added lightly with an amused look at Bumblebee, who held his ventilations, until two astroseconds later when Jazz got the slight with a 'Hey!' and the minibot snorted and chuckled with Prowl before Jazz swatted them both in the faceplate with his cleaning cloth.

"Alright, if you think I'm glitched, explain how I managed to set the record for bringin' two mechs to simultaneous overload with just mah fingers? Don't tempt me to do a Bumblebee and withhold 'facing privileges from ya both."

The other two made it up to the Porsche by thoroughly cleaning away the rest of his paint marks, eager to appease in light of his threat.

"What about you Prowl? You never struck me as a particularly prolific mech." Bumblebee asked as he worked on several yellow and black streaks down Prowl's aft and legs.

"Well no, I certainly wasn't that. I wasn't at all fussed with relationships for the most part. If I ever felt an attraction to another, it was usually someone I'd known for a while, in fact many of my more serious relationships almost started by accident, like I could never quite pinpoint where they began. However I… could always recall exactly when they ended."

Bumblebee looked up, noting the droop in the tacticians wings as he worked white streaks off of Jazz's racing stripes. Jazz had a look of understanding, Prowl having revealed his old relationship scars to him long ago.

"I'm afraid many of the mechs or femmes that wanted to become involved with me… liked parts of me, but never the whole. More than once, I had partners… I should say admirers, really, because partners is a more equal term… these, admirers of mine, were convinced that once they were intimate with me, they could change fundamental 'flaws' in my personality, as they saw it."

Prowl sighed heavily. "It recurred almost every time in one form or another, always some part of me they wanted to change, something that never quite _sat_ well enough with them. I never attempted to do the same to them. Quite the contrary, there is little logic in assuming a bot will, or _should_ have to change what they are, just because another doesn't like it. That defeats the purpose of true devotion. You take all, or you take nothing. Those very words ended at least three of my so called 'relationships', and every time I said them I couldn't quite believe I was doing so _again._

Eventually I distanced myself from intimate relationships… for a short while I had one or two associates who I had a mutual understanding with to-"

"I keep tellin' ya Prowler, they're called 'friends with benefits'. It's much easier to call 'em that."

Prowl sent Jazz a very unamused look while the saboteur beamed innocently back and Bumblebee couldn't help but smile as he saw Prowl's irritation melt into affection.

Prowl sighed again, wings twitching up.

"As I was saying… I had these… 'friends with benefits' (Jazz glowed as the tactician gave in) when I felt the need to interface. Likewise they came to me when they were in need. But as the war progressed I abandoned all form of relationships. My needs came second to those of the war effort. I worked myself hard enough that I didn't have time to even feel such desires.

Consequently, I forgot about them. It sounds strange but… that was why when Jazz began to flirt with me, I didn't even recognise it for what it was. No one had so much as shown interest in vorns, mostly because I deliberately made myself disinteresting. Yet, for some reason, there he was, his attention solely on me, and by the time I got around to realising it, the first thing I remembered was the problem with every other bot who had pursued me.

So I told Jazz up front. If you like me, do not try to change me."

"And what did he say to that?" Bumblebee asked quietly, gazing with rapt attention into Prowl's faceplate. A tiny smile curled the edge of the tactician's lips and his optics shone brighter.

"He said, 'why the frag would I want to change something that's perfect?'"

"At which point Prowl then proceeded to pounce on me and I don't think they ever got those stains out of the floor of store-room 16." Jazz added with a wide smile as Bumblebee's optics grew quite a bit bigger.

"Primus, I've seen those stains… what the frag did you two DO to make marks like that?"

Prowl had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Well, at the time it housed several chemical compounds… I knocked over quite a few in my uh… _excitement_ … and I'm afraid an acid of some sort soaked into the decking. Which it wouldn't have done if I'd cleaned it up before our activities, rather than after… 3 cycles later."

"3 cycles? Primus, I thought _I_ was desperate for a good 'face."

Jazz chuckled heartily while Prowl got white and black streaks off Bumblebee's back.

"It wasn't all 'facing Bee… much as I'd like to say it was. But we had plenty to talk about." Jazz clarified.

Bumblebee nodded in understanding as the three of them started checking they had gotten all the scuffs off of each other.

Before Prowl could turn to shut-off the water, Bumblebee reached his hands up to both officers shoulders, gently pulling them down so that their heads were level. The two complied without question as the minibot placed his servos on the sides of their faceplates and pulled their helms together to rest forehead to forehead with his.

"Thankyou. Both of you. I… I never thought… never even dreamed I could… would … thankyou." Bumblebee murmured quietly, unable to quite articulate his intense new feelings and his gratitude and swelling spark all at once.

The other two glanced between him and each other with soft smiles before Jazz and Prowl both kissed Bumblebee's cheek arches, making the yellow mech beam.

The other two nuzzled their helms into his slightly before parting again.

"When's your next shift Bee?" Jazz asked as he fetched a drying cloth for each of them from the storage unit in the corner.

Bumblebee checked his internal chronometer. "I'v got another cycle, then I'm on patrol with Tracks."

"Lucky you. I'm going to be attempting a monitor shift." Prowl sighed.

"Attempting?" Bumblebee questioned curiously, accepting a towel-like cloth from Jazz, who gave a deep chuckle.

"Ya think he's gonna have an easy time keeping' his processor on the job after this?"

"Aw come on, this is _Prowl_ … master of self-control, surely _I_ couldn't keep him from concentrating on a little 3 cycle shift?" Bumblebee said, all innocence as he beamed up at Prowl, who harrumphed and twitched his wings before Jazz tossed a dry cloth in his faceplate.

"You are entirely too good at the innocent act." Prowl commented with the hint of an amused smile. "And I suspect you underestimate the influence you've had on me for the last orn… Prime himself noticed I wasn't getting on with my work. What was worse, he knew the reason for my distraction."

"WHAT?"

Bumblebee and Jazz both looked between each other and Prowl before Jazz's mouth fell into it's usual lopsided grin and Bumblebee's remained slightly mortified.

"Y-you mean he… knows… what happened when… and now that… Oh _Primus_ are there no secrets on this ship?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware he had any experience with medical code. Apparently he's come across a case of what happened to us before, and recognised Ratchet's supplementary In the reports. For the record he… actually was the one who helped me figure out how to approach the whole thing with you and Jazz. He seemed much surer of a positive outcome than I was, but I suppose optimism is his namesake." Prowl said with an apologetic look.

"First I can't look Wheeljack in the optics, and now I won't even be able to look Prime in the faceplate for orns…" Bumblebee moaned.

"Ya ain't tall enough to do that anyway are ya?" Jazz teased, then backed off laughing as Bumblebee swatted viciously at him with his cloth.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. Chances are I'll be fielding any questions of how this whole thing has panned out if he asks them."

Prowl said calmly, carefully wiping away all the water rivulets across his hood.

"That reminds me…" Bumblebee said quietly as he dried off his shoulders. "What am I going to say to the Twins? I still want to thank them properly… I didn't get much chance when I came out of recharge, they both just helped me get to my shift. And I know if I don't find them, they'll find me, and I want to know what to say…"

"Well, knowing those two, if they liked ya they'll probably ask for a repeat performance." Jazz said airily with a sly grin, drying his arm plating.

"I'd say there's a high probability of that." Prowl added, his expression matching Jazz's.

"Not helping." Bumblebee huffed, and the other two couldn't help but laugh as the minibot pouted.

"Well, I think you should make clear your appreciation for what they did, but tell them you're now otherwise engaged intimately and your new partners have lain claim to your attentions." Prowl said easily, earning him a shake of the head from Jazz. "What?" the Tactician asked blankly.

"He's gonna need that in Lamborghini speak Prowler. You know that in the world of Sunny n sides, no means yes and otherwise engaged means slag all."

"Yes, but I'm sure they aren't immune to Bumblebee's charm. I'm confident he could have them eating out of his servo if he phrased it right."

Bumblebee giggled at Prowl. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to finding out all these little quirky opinions of yours Prowl." The minibot grinned at him.

"I'm not sure about quirky, I just make logical assessments and add some of my own opinions to them."

But he was smiling broadly at Bumblebee's affectionate compliment.

"Well, you're good with words Bee, I'm sure you'll be able to let 'em down gently. They'll probably ask _who_ you're involved with though." Jazz mused, rubbing his towel under his chin with a thoughtful expression.

"I'm not telling them." Bumblebee said flatly but quietly, as though he'd also realised this and was most nervous about it. "If I tell them, they'll spread the word and bots will tease us all like crazy, _especially_ Prowl. And if I tell them just Jazz, that won't work because everyone knows you're _with_ Prowl and then they'll speculate about the connections and… frankly I think keeping it a secret for a while will be much more fun." Bumblebee decided with a coy smile.

"Ya gotta say something' to em though. And if ya refuse to tell em, they'll probably take it as a challenge and… well, between them and us, I'm not sure you'll be getting much recharge Bee. Ya might have to go into hidin'." Jazz teased.

Prowl snorted softly through his vents, finish up his drying by flicking the last droplets off his wings and onto Jazz, who let out a 'Hey!' and proceeded to swat Prowl around the helm with his cloth again.

Prowl got it off him when it caught on his chevron points so Jazz gave him a smack on the aft for his smirking.

Bumblebee watched the exchange with contented warmth, still enjoying the pair being completely at ease around him, drawing him in. It was hard to feel daunted by the prospect of confronting the Twins when he was basking in the glow of his new relationship. He still couldn't quite believe his luck at having fallen into it.

"If I may, Bumblebee… perhaps you could utilise the advice Prime gave to me when I was at a loss for how to approach you both. He told me to try and do things the way Jazz would do them in my position. I think you could easily put yourself in the Twins pedes and imagine how they might go about it."

Prowl suggested lightly as Bumblebee handed back the towel.

Bumblebee's faceplate lit up at the thought. "That's not a bad idea… this could actually be pretty fun."

"Oh, please let me help you work out what you're gonna do, I don't wanna miss an opportunity like this." Jazz begged with a flash of his visor and a mischievous grin on his faceplate.

"Sure thing Jazz." Bumblebee said with an amused look.

"I'm afraid I have to leave you two to your own devices then, my shift starts in two Breems, and I want to go and pick up some reports from Ratchet first… I've no doubt he has something of a build-up given I've been avoiding him for quite some time. Wish me luck." Prowl said with an apprehensive look as he deposited the damp towels in the washing unit.

"Heheh, you don't need luck Prowler, just fast enough reflexes to dodge whatever size wrench he'll have on hand when you walk in."

Prowl made a noise of agreement as they followed him out of his quarters and into his office. Prowl picked up two more energon cubes on their way through and gave them to Jazz and Bumblebee, subspacing another of his own to take on monitor duty. They would all need another quick refuel after their extensive activities.

"I'll see you both later?" the tactician queried as he paused inside the door to the hallway, turning bright, eager optics on them both, so much more expressive than Bumblebee was yet used to, but addictive to experience nonetheless.

"Yea, you two should come and hang in my quarters later, I was finished all my shifts for the joor when I walked into the refectory earlier, so I'll jus' be hangin' out for you both till tonight." Jazz grinned.

"Yea, I'll come by after I come back and talk with the Twins. Jazz, you and I should work out what I'm doing in that respect before I go on patrol."

"Good thinking' Bee. Guess we'll see you later Prowler."

The tactician ducked his helm with a smile, nuzzling his chevron briefly into each of their foreheads before keying open the door and heading off to medbay.

Jazz and Bumblebee both admired the tactician's aft as he walked off, sharing identical goofy grins before heading for Jazz's quarters, deciding that returning to the common room would draw too much attention, and they wanted their plan making un-interrupted.


	7. Chapter 7

When Bumblebee came in with Tracks from his shift, he headed straight for the rec. room where he hoped to find the Twins.

Tracks went with him, drawling something about needing to refuel before cleaning all the gunk off his paint.

"You could always ask Sunstreaker if he'd do it for you while you take your energon. I'm sure he sympathises." Bumblebee said with a barely suppressed tone of amusement and a grin.

"And have him lecture me about how I don't wax often enough? No thankyou. I take pride in my appearance, but I do have a life as well." The red faced mech replied, waving his hand to emphasise his point.

Tracks had already asked Bumblebee during their patrol what the incident in the corridor had been all about. Bumblebee, still not quite willing to let the rest of the Ark know what had actually happened, had said the twins had gotten him overcharged in an attempt to cheer him up and he'd fallen into recharge in their room. Tracks had heard Trailbreaker complain about the Twins interfacing with someone, and gave Bumblebee a disbelieving and suspicious look. The Spy, without missing a beat, had explained that the Twins had apologised for that impromptu session with Bluestreak while he'd been in their quarters, but Bumblebee hadn't even been aware of the incident because he was knocked on his aft and out cold for the whole thing.

Tracks seemed very ready to believe this given the twin's irreverent behaviour when over-charged, and Bumblebee was known to not drink much, and apart from that it was easier to believe that than the truth… at least Bumblebee thought so, and it appeared he was right, because Tracks seemed to buy it and moved on to other topics of conversation.

When they reached the refectory, it didn't take Bumblebee long to find the Twins. Funnily enough, it also didn't take them long to find him either.

Tracks gave him a knowing smirk and went off to grab himself a cube (which Bumblebee found amusing simply because Tracks really didn't have a clue about the situation), the minibot was actually thankful that the Twins seemed eager to approach him rather than him having to engage them in a way that would seem rather uncharacteristic. He quickly reviewed the plan of attack he and Jazz had concocted before his patrol.

"Heeeey Bee! Been missing you all day, where have you been?" Sideswipe said cheerily, giving him a very charming smile and sliding an arm around his shoulders.

Sunstreaker took a stance in front of the serenely smiling minibot, leaning to the side and crossing his arms over his chest plate with a sultry half smile and smouldering optics.

"Yea, sorry about that guys, I've had stuff popping up all day. But I did want to thank you guys properly for cheering me up last night."

"Anytime. Feeling down right now?" Sunstreaker purred quietly, smile curling further across his handsome faceplate.

Bumblebee's optics flashed and his bemused grin widened slightly, but he gave nothing away in his tone or expression, upholding his usual innocence as he replied "No, actually I wanted to repay you both. Plus I have something to tell you… is it OK if we go to your quarters?"

Sideswipe glanced between the minibot and his brother, as if not quite believing their luck, but there was a curious glint in his optics too.

"Sure, let's go!" the red toughliner chimed eagerly as he released Bumblebee and they all walked out and down the hall.

The Twins barely held their pace back for the spy, who was nearly trotting to keep up with their long strides.

Sunstreaker entered their door code so fast he had to do it again slower because the lock hadn't been able to register it properly.

Once they were inside, both Lamborghinis were taken by surprise as they turned to their small yellow companion.

He placed a servo on each of their interface panels and pressed them forcefully back into Sideswipe's berth, meeting no resistance, as planned.

Both Twins were too stunned to do much more than comply with the minibot's silent physical instructions.

They sat on the edge of the berth and gasped as Bumblebee wasted absolutely no time working over their panels with sensuous touches.

As soon as the two finally seemed to overcome their surprise, they went to touch Bumblebee back, but he held up both servos, abruptly halting his ministrations.

"Ah-ah. This is _my_ thankyou. You keep your hands to yourself." the yellow mech all but purred.

"Oh Primus you're hot when you're bossy." Sunstreaker growled lustily, optics deepening to a rich azure.

Sideswipe giggled and then threw his helm back with a moan as Bumblebee returned to teasing their interface covers with vigour.

He didn't waste time though, quickly finding the catch pressure points and sliding away the heated metal plates.

The minibot plunged his fingers into their already slick valves, earning two nearly identical cries of pleasure. Bumblebee's coy smile widened. Jazz must have had so much fun doing this to him and Prowl earlier.

"So I have something to tell you guys about… and it sort of came up between last night and now…"

Bumblebee said nonchalantly as he curled his fingers inside them both, massaging the walls of their valves and feeling hot, fresh lubricant drip down over his fingers.

The two were writhing against his hands, barely able to understand quite where the spy was coming from at the moment.

"Primus Bee… don't tell me we fritzed your personality circuits last night… not that _I_ _'_ _m_ minding this new you, but _aaaahnnnnnnnnnn!_ " Sideswipe's babbling was cut short as the yellow minibot thrust his servo deep into the red mech's valve, hitting a sensor node.

"Hmmm, trust me, if I were fritzed, I wouldn't be able to think straight with the noises you two are making."

Sunstreaker arched gracefully, pressing into Bumblebee's touches and moaned exceptionally loudly on purpose.

The Spy very nearly did lose track of what he was going to say.

" _Anyway_ _…_ the thing that was making me upset, well… it sort of came to a head today and…"

Sideswipe mewled and his hips twitched as the small digits scissored in his now rather hot valve.

"How is your turn-off talking totally turning me on?" he whined weakly.

"Shush 'Sides, this is important." the minibot admonished with a mix of amusement and fake annoyance.

Sunstreaker hummed out a delicious note and curled his pelvis forward, allowing Bumblebee to press deeper into him.

The yellow mech sped up his pace slightly, earning gasps and hitched ventilations from the twin toughliners who writhed on the berth before him, their lubricant now pooling down onto Sideswipe's berth.

"Like I said, the thing that was bothering me… had to do with some other mechs and our… _standing_ _…_ and to be blunt…" Bumblebee stared pointedly at Sunstreaker, who made another show of moaning loudly as he rolled his hips into the thrusts of the small black servos, panting.

"We finally worked out our issues and… well I'm afraid I'm a claimed mech now guys."

The two Lamborghinis, who had been making a show of not really listening, both snapped their optics onto him, looking both confused and slightly astounded… almost disbelieving.

"Are you… are you _seri-OOOOOOOOOOOOH!_ "

Sideswipe was cut off as Bumblebee gave them an innocent little half smile and then ramped up his pace in their valves, small digits pounding into the two burning hot ports as they spasmed and contracted with pleasure, lubricant making loud wet noises at the friction.

Sunny and Sides both forgot about Bumblebee's revelation momentarily as ecstasy rippled through their circuits and exploded with their overloads at the hands of the small spy.

Bumblebee let them ride his fingers as they pleased, still pumping them as their ports contracted wildly, keeping them in the throes of bliss for as long as possible.

Bumblebee found it a lot more satisfying than he would have imagined to bring the Twins crashing into overload without getting anything in return. He was feeling quite aroused by the show they had given him, but being an accomplished spy, he hid it well beneath his usual cheery innocence.

This was a key part of the plan after-all. Even though Bumblebee was dubious about revving the red and gold mechs up to leave them hanging, Jazz seemed to have faith in the plan, and Bumblebee had never really gone wrong following Jazz's plans before.

The two toughliners eventually settled, leaning back on the berth as lubricant trickled from their suddenly sated valves, dripping off the edge of the metal surface.

" _Primus_ …" Sunstreaker breathed, trying to return his ventilation cycles to a normal rhythm.

"What… what was that about… you and some other mech?" Sideswipe half moaned as he too tried to cool his circuits.

"Mechs." Bumblebee corrected him gently.

Sunstreaker fixed disbelieving optics on him.

"I think I might do a Prowl in a nanosec… are you telling us…that you're _involved_ now?"

"With _two_ other mechs?" Sideswipe added.

"That aren't _us?_ " His yellow twin followed up.

Bumblebee smiled slightly sheepishly at the two sets of wide blue optics.

"Yeah. I'm as surprised as you, trust me."

"So… what lucky mechs finally figured out you're as lusty as the rest of us?" Sideswipe asked with a crooked grin, leaning forward.

Bumblebee, still playing the part of the tease, put his fingers to his mouth in mock thought, snaking his glossa out to lap Sideswipe's fluids from the digits.

Sunstreaker let out a noise somewhere between a hum and a purring growl, watching the enticing spectacle.

"Well…" The minibot started between licks, "They didn't really want me to say. We're kinda keeping it on the low-down, but I thought you guys at least had a right to know. And I wanted to thankyou properly for last night anyway. Oh, and tell you that they said if they find you trying to interface with me from now on there will be 'dire consequences' or something."

The Twins both looked at each other with slight alarm, eyes quickly going back to Bumblebee, who was still the picture of innocence as he sucked Sunstreaker's lubricant off his other fingers with the faintest of moans.

The spy had a hard time suppressing a smile and a laugh as the two bristled, the steely resolve of a challenge being accepted flitting across their optics.

"Oh, really. Did your two new _lovers_ ask _you_ if you still wanted to interface with us?" Sunstreaker asked haughtily, but Bumblebee thought he heard the barest trace of hurt in the golden twin's affronted tone.

"Oh, I definitely wouldn't mind repeating last night with you two minus the high-grade… but when I get in a relationship, I _do_ like to stay exclusive to my partner-er… partners, in this case… out of respect… I mean they really do like me, and I really like them, I just never realised exactly _how_ much I liked them-"

"It's Wheeljack and someone isn't it?" Sideswipe interjected, an insatiable curious glint in his optics.

"That would be right… Wheeljack is so old-fashioned, him and the other sciency bots, they wouldn't want us near Bee if they claimed him." Sunstreaker joined the musing, adding his own conspiracy theories.

"But then who's the other mech?" Sideswipe questioned.

"Smokescreen? He was on Bee's top five list." Sunstreaker suggested.

"Yea but 'Jack and Smokey aren't together. They barely even hang out in the same circles." the Red twin countered.

"They could have come together over 'Bee." his golden twin supplied.

Bumblebee actually laughed, and they both looked at him, perplexed.

"It's not 'Jack or Smokescreen guys, but I won't stop you guessing, seeing as you're having so much fun."

"Well, yea, it is fun, but not as much fun as playing with you… you're _our_ pet after-all, we claimed you first! And you can go back to them and tell them that." Sunstreaker said petulantly, a definite pout to his features.

"Well… you can go back and tell them after we accept your thanks." Sideswipe purred with a mischievous grin, eyeing the fingers Bumblebee had finished licking.

Bumblebee sighed and looked away with a very convincing air of disappointment.

"I really appreciate the thought guys… but I promised, and I don't want to break their trust so soon, I'm not going to lie to them. What's it going to look like if I turn up the day after we become involved and admit that I'd already gone and interfaced with both of you, like their feelings don't mean anything."

"So what, _our_ feelings don't mean anything?" Sideswipe said, pouting like his brother, the hurt in his voice only half fake.

"Of course your feelings mean something! That's why I'm here talking to you about this. I need to get this straight. You guys got intimate with me last night because you realised I actually had needs like everyone else and that suddenly turned you on, right?"

The twin's pouts instantly fell away in the face of Bumblebee calling it so bluntly, but neither seemed shocked or apologetic, sharing a look before nodding their agreement.

"You ended up liking the way I interface, so you wouldn't say no to repeating it. That's ok, and if today hadn't worked out the way it had, I can only imagine the way this new thing could have worked… but the fact is, before you guys noticed I was down I was already up to my servos in complicated relationship slag, which has somehow resolved the very day _after_ I found what seemed to be a new form of stability. What I've gotten into with these other two bot's it's… it's _deep_ guys, it's not just friends with benefits…"

Bumblebee found his mouth curl a little with a smile, remembering the earlier conversation where Jazz had coaxed Prowl into using that term.

The Twins seemed to realise how serious Bumblebee was, because they had both deflated somewhat and were looking at him curiously.

"So… you _have_ had serious relationships before?" Sideswipe ventured curiously.

Bumblebee gave a soft snort and a lopsided grin. "Of course I have. You guys didn't think I was a _virgin_ did you?"

"Not with that glossa." Sunstreaker murmured with an exceptionally lusty tone.

Bumblebee's smile only widened. "Yea, I've been in a few… not in a long time though, not since becoming Mr. Nice-guy."

"Well, you know they say nice-guys finish last." Sideswipe said slyly.

"Do I detect a double meaning there? Cause I think I _came_ first in at least one of those rounds last night." Bumblebee retorted in an equally mischievous tone.

Sunstreaker's optics flared. "Pit I love it when you make dirty double entendres." He all but growled, the lust clearly back in his expression.

Bumblebee actually laughed, but he knew from the look in the Twins eyes that he had to wrap up their little meeting before he was pounced and 'faced into oblivion… not that he would have minded, and the very thought sent thrills of giddy excitement through him, but part of the plan was to not let them get anything from him… Jazz had tried to explain why, but Bumblebee hadn't really been clear on it. He still trusted Jazz, nonetheless, and was only able to fight his own aroused temptation by the dull ache that had set into his valve during patrol. He was currently ignoring it, but was sure it would get worse, and further inflaming the condition wouldn't do him much good.

"I'm afraid I have to love you and leave you guys, so to speak… I've got more spec ops revision to do with Jazz before Prowl gets off shift, and I don't want to get in their way." Bumblebee said with an authentic sounding disappointed sigh.

The twins shared a look, and Bumblebee got the feeling they were doing their weird twin-bond communication thing that was vaguely known about but not entirely understood by the rest of the Ark.

"It's OK Bee, we understand… Primus I wouldn't want to get between those two either at the moment, Prowl is so 'face deprived he's likely to throw you in the brig if you stall his alone time with his boyfriend." Sideswipe chuckled as Sunstreaker slid off his brothers berth and went to his desk.

Bumblebee assumed he was finding something to clean himself up with, knowing what the golden toughliner was like about his appearances.

"You guys won't… tell anyone, will you? It's not that I'm embarrassed or regret it or anything, it's just… I don't know if the rest of the Ark is ready to know about that kinda thing." Bumblebee pressed carefully, a tinge of real anxiety in his voice as he searched the more devious red twin's faceplate.

Sideswipe held his gaze with a sincere grin that Bumblebee wasn't sure he bought at all… Sideswipe was notoriously good at lying through his dental plating.

"Hey, I might not be as obsessive as Sunny, but I care about my paint job too yanoe, and I'm not keen on bringing half the Ark down on myself by bandying about how I've had three incredible overloads with none other than the resident butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth spy. Trust us Bee, on this one, our lip-plates are well and truly bolted."

Bumblebee accepted Sideswipe's promise, despite his initial dubiousness. It did make more sense for them to keep it to themselves… Sunstreaker probably wouldn't live down the implications of interfacing with a minibot after his many tirades against them, and truly enough Bumblebee was sure that more than one mech would be after Sideswipe's skidplate believing he had forced Bumblebee into something, knowing as they all thought they did that Sides was promiscuous and Bumblebee was ever friendly, innocent and therefore apparently chaste.

"Oh, before you go Bee, I know you said your new partners forbade us from interfacing with you-"

Sunstreaker purred silkily behind him as he approached.

Something in his tone made Bumblebee nervous, and he whipped around to make sure the golden twin wasn't about to try something on with him… when he found two rubber lined metal bands slapped over his wrists.

Bumblebee barely had time to gasp before Sideswipe swept him up from behind and deposited him smoothly on the berth.

Before he could so much as protest, his cuffed arms were raised over his head and a click was heard as the cord between them was slung over a spring-latched hook in the wall at the head of Sideswipes' berth.

At the same time, Sunstreaker had taken advantage of his sprawled legs and opened his interface panel.

Bumblebee squeaked loudly as something was pressed into the entrance of his slightly slick port, stretching the sore, oversensitive platelets a little, nestling snugly as the golden twin pulled back with a smirk.

"Looks like you've seen some more action since our encounter last night… new lovers get straight to the point huh? Don't worry… we won't say anything, and we'll respect their wishes… but they never said anything about playing. And I do so love to treat my pets to some fun toys." Sunstreaker purred as he stood back and inspected his work.

Sideswipe sniggered and sidled up next to his twin with a devilish smirk, optics roving over Bumblebee's shocked, tethered form lying quivering with shock and confusion on his berth.

"Jazz is going to have to postpone that spec ops stuff with you, but on the bright side, you don't have to worry about Prowl jumping him in front of you." Sideswipe said casually, patting Bumblebee's knee in a reassuring manner.

Bumblebee opened his mouth to protest, readying himself to pout and plead his way out of this entirely too precarious situation… but then Sunstreaker leant down and turned on whatever the thing he'd put in his valve entrance was.

All that came out of Bumblebee's vocaliser was a breathy moan as vibrations wracked his tender sensors and the healing platelets on the edges of his entrance.

Oh _Primus_ he'd used vibrators before but they'd never _pulsed_ like _that!_

"Anyway, catch you later Bee, we've got an important meeting with some other minibots who's afts need whipping at a certain videogame Spike leant us last week." Sideswipe said cheerily as he wiped his plating off with a cloth from his bedside and retracted his cord, closing his panel.

Sunstreaker did the same, both acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on, but for their identical Cheshire cat grins.

"Y-you…can't leave me… here like this?" Bumblebee panted as he squirmed at the alternating pattern of the vibrations making him rather wet.

Sunstreaker frowned thoughtfully. "…You're right." he said matter-of-factly, before reaching down and pressing two digits either side of the minibot's spike housing and releasing his cord. He nodded and smirked in satisfaction before turning away.

"Have fun while we're gone." Sunstreaker called cheerily over his shoulder as they left, Sideswipe sending him one more sultry glance and a chuckle before exiting behind his twin and shutting the door.

* * *

Bumblebee couldn't believe it… he _could not believe this_ _…_ _._

He knew the Twins were devious. He'd thought he was clever enough to evade their mischief, even though he'd basically walked up to the ant-hill that was the twins and poked it with a very seductive stick, expecting to be able to walk away unscathed…

And by the way, standard special ops training did _not_ cover being captured by an enemy who would torture you with a _fragging insanely hot vibrator stuck in your port entrance._

Bumblebee huffed and groaned softly as the pulsation pattern suddenly changed, the speed remaining the same. He was soon leaking copious amounts of lubricant onto the berth, but the thing wasn't slipping out of him. It seemed to be covered in little rubbery nodules that were keeping it anchored while allowing his fluids to seep out around it. In the meantime, his spike had also emerged to it's full length and pressurised, standing proudly and quivering as if he didn't already know how aroused against his will he was.

The teasing ripples that only stimulated the sensors near the entrance of his valve and a little way in were quickly driving him to distraction.

Bumblebee whined and closed his legs tight, trying to shift the thing… either out or deeper, he wasn't sure what he was trying for exactly, but he ended up letting out a soft cry of surprised bliss as the feeling of the vibrations were changed by the closing of his legs.

It was still nothing more than a tease though, and he knew it would take forever to overload at this pace.

This would have to be the most deliciously agonising build up he'd ever experienced.

He checked his internal chronometer, noting the time. Jazz would expect him in his quarters soon, surely he'd come looking if he didn't turn up? Oh he hoped he'd find him before Prowl got off shift, or the tactician was likely to throw the twins in the brig for this…

But the longer Bumblebee was there, the less he felt that that would be adequate punishment.

This… _this_ deserved them in the brig, hands tied behind their backs while he pole danced with no lower armour on in front of them.

Why such a thought occurred to him, he wasn't sure. He didn't really dance, he hadn't even before he'd become Mr. innocence. He supposed it had something to do with the small object buzzing away in changing rhythms just inside him.

He let out a wanton whine of pleasure and frustration, arching his back and panting as the vibrations pulsed out a tapered rev, as if it should be in time with a thrusting spike.

Memory files from earlier in the day surged to the fore of his meta and he moaned loudly at the thought of Prowl and Jazz when they had both been in him at once… the sounds and the feel and the intensity… the mere memory caused a fresh surge of heat to course through his circuits and he bucked his hips into the teasing thrum of the object lodged between his legs.

Even if Jazz found him like this, he doubted the saboteur would un-cuff him immediately… hadn't Ratchet said he liked to play this game with Prowl? Oh, why hadn't he asked them about _that_? Now he'd have to wait until his valve was recovered enough to try this with them… this torture session may be low friction, but he doubted it was going to leave him any less sore in a few cycles, given how wildly his port walls were clenching at the just out of reach stimulation. And a fat lot of use it was releasing his spike, all it did was twitch and shudder as he writhed, standing out ready, wanting, _needing_ so badly to be touched and _he couldn_ _'_ _t reach the slagging thing with any part of him._

He supposed it was a small mercy… if it had been left latched in it's housing, it would have pressurised anyway and ached like pit. And pleasurable torture was slightly preferable to painful discomfort.

Bumblebee was just wondering how much longer Jazz would be and whether or not he could work himself up to overload for him on arrival when the alarm call started blaring over the ship's intercom systems.

Bumblebee shuddered and groaned, helm falling back in disbelief while he ground his aft against the berth in frustration.

That was the Decepticon attack siren, it meant all available mechs were being called to arms to deal with an incident or respond to 'Con activity. Bumblebee would be rostered off shift and labelled available. They might not notice leaving without him, but someone would be asking questions when they got back and reports were filed.

Bumblebee felt horrible. Not just because he was missing a call to duty and not contributing or helping, but because he was instead locked and tethered in a room and _enjoying it_ far more than he ought to.

His guilt didn't stand up well in a fight against his sensors, and they fired up hot and strong as the vibrations changed again to a quick and slow alternation.

Bumblebee bucked and arched and moaned weakly, feeling his arousal grow painfully slowly.

As the breems ticked by with no sound of any mech approaching, Bumblebee felt his circuits get hotter and hotter, his cooling fans buzzing loudly as he groaned and growled and whined in further frustration at the pleasure steadily building from the signals in his port.

The device seemed to have a pre-set program. It continued to change rhythms every five kliks, and once it had gone through about 10 different settings, it started again on a more powerful vibration level.

"Hhhnnnnnnnn…" Bumblebee couldn't be bothered quieting himself as his arousal simmered slowly, never quite peaking enough to get him closer to overload. This was going to drive him _insane_ _…_ and just how many mechs had the Twins done this to for them to have such a set-up so ready to spring on him at a moments notice?

The thought that perhaps that vibrator had been inside other mechs excited him for some reason…

Well if anyone had experienced this torture before, no doubt Bluestreak was most likely the top candidate. Everyone knew he was one of the Twin's favourite berth-mates. To their credit, they treated him well too, they socialised with him and seemed to have a knack for tuning out his incessant inane chatter.

But thinking of the grey door-winger only drew Bumblebee's thoughts to his own datsun.

Even the thought of Prowl in this position, while it sent a wave of hot excitement through him, wasn't enough to bring him any closer to a charge release.

And _Primus_ this one was surely going to be one pit of a discharge if the build-up time was anything to go by.

However, even after a whole cycle had passed, Bumblebee found himself writhing and whimpering helplessly, banging his helm lightly against the berth.

He was trembling madly and panting heavily. He'd tried twisting around onto his front, changing his position as much as physically possible, spreading his legs as wide as he could, shutting them tightly, thrusting into thin air, but nothing, NOTHING was pushing his charge up high enough to achieve overload.

He relaxed, quivering slightly at the change in the stimulative signals before his sensors adjusted again, the pleasure fading to a consistent ebb as his pedes twitched and he groaned and huffed.

The thing had worked itself up to it's highest setting and just kept rotating between rhythms in a random pattern, but nothing was pushing him into the realm of release.

This was by far, he decided, the worst torture he had ever endured.

And he was getting desperate.

Bumblebee bit his lip. He _could_ try… but if he messed it up he could hurt himself rather badly, and then he'd be in a real mess… but… slag it all, he'd just have to be _careful_ _…_

Bumblebee had tried to imagine what Jazz might do in this position… after making himself rather giddy with the image of a squirming, shackled Jazz being driven wild by the same device as him, he had figured the saboteur would use his great agility to his advantage and make it so he was able to reach the device lodged in his valve.

No doubt Jazz could easily employ one of his acrobatic techniques to roll his legs back over his helm to bring his port into reach of his hands, but Bumblebee… agile and nimble as he was, hadn't ever been so good at restricted self-contortive techniques.

Many were used in training for special-ops agents, and he'd passed his basic tests just fine, but… it had been a long time since he'd had to pull off a move like this. He could easily strain a neck cable, or worse, disconnect something vital, execute poorly and do himself a serious injury, and no one would be on hand to help… true, he could always comm. Ratchet, but he _really_ didn't want to be found in this position.

And he was getting rather desperate as the vibrator changed to a pulse he'd become rather fond of.

Venting hard in resignation, the spy attempted a few times to execute a backwards roll… but as he strained his neck and chickened out each time his legs swung up to his centre of gravity, he decided it just wasn't worth the risk.

With a growl of growing irritation, he tried to twist himself around on the berth and roll so that he could bring his legs around to the wall he was tethered to.

With a thrill of triumph, he managed it… but even pushing up off the berth with his pedes the length and height of the cord and shackles prevented him from really touching himself.

He grunted and huffed as he slung his legs over the cable, the weight straining at his wrists a little painfully.

He could just… _just_ reach his valve… with fumbling fingers he tried to grasp the small, rubber coated vibrator, but all the lubricant made it so slippery that it-

"OOOOOh!"

Bumblebee gasped and his weight fell back to the berth with a small clank as the thing slipped deeper inside his valve. The minibot moaned and writhed as teased sensors were suddenly hit with alternating staccato pulses, flaring his arousal with hot bliss.

Oh he was so much nearer again…

And then…

Then…

Bumblebee nearly cried in frustration as his ecstasy waned, over-stimulated sensors adjusting once more. Was he _ever_ going to get a release from this?

Ever determined, Bumblebee growled again and raised his legs, once more curling them around the cable attached to the wall and his cuffs. He already knew he couldn't unlatch them, given the hook had a caribenna lock, but he wasn't interested in freeing himself. Nor was he interested in getting to his valve anymore.

He wound his legs tightly around the short length of cord, his weight pulling uncomfortably on his wrists once more but he managed to get a servo onto his spike.

Bumblebee moaned as the vibrator changed rhythms just as he began to rub at his cord.

Now _that_ was more like it…

The minibot thrust restrictedly against this own touches, the position and closeness to the wall not affording him much room to manoeuvre, but nevertheless as he rubbed his thumb hard against the tip of his spike, he felt the heightening surges of pleasure that would bring him closer to release.

He had to concentrate hard on the pleasure so that it over-rode the pain setting into his back and wrists from his position, and he stopped caring about the loud, desperate mewls and exclamations he made at the violent, hot surges of ecstasy caused by the combination of his ministrations and a fast, hard pulsation from the device now half-way up his valve.

Pretty soon, he had brought himself to the edge, shutting out all external thought, his focus wholly on getting the release he had craved for more than a cycle now.

His fingers desperately clenched and stroked the end of his cord, which was all he could reach given the restriction of the cuffs.

He didn't even have room In his processor to use any kind of fantasies to his advantage as he normally did when self-interfacing… he jerked his hips, squeezed his spike firmly, and then… the vibrator changed to his favourite setting and he finally, _finally_ toppled over the edge and overloaded.

His whole body tensed and arched hard, the over-straining of joints and cables drowned in the intense bliss of discharge. Bumblebee shuttered his optics and scrunched up his faceplate, letting out a loud keen in ecstasy… The slow-build up really had made for one _pit_ of sensory charge… it seemed to pulse through him forever, filling his audios with static, vents hitching and engine revving hard.

When the pleasure abated it was replaced with dull achy pangs. Bumblebee was shaking madly but he didn't yet relax, knowing more pain would set in when he did. He vented a sigh in relief, even though the vibrator was still going, tickling his tingling, buzzing sensors.

Then his self-contained little bubble of sensations was popped by a noise at the other end of the room.

Bumblebee's helm snapped back at the soft, surprised exclamation that came from the doorway, which he hadn't heard swish open halfway through his overload.

With a loud and highly indignant squeak, he loosened his legs and fell back to the berth with a clunk, scrabbling to afford himself some dignity… which he realised was absolutely pointless given the berth was smeared broadly with his lubricant.

"I…uh… you're not Sideswipe…" the mech stammered awkwardly, and Bumblebee recognised Bluestreak's voice, groaning internally in mortification.

Bumblebee drew his legs up to hide his now depressurised but still exposed spike, aware that his port was still dripping wetly onto the berth.

"Huh… I never thought of doing that before…" the gunner mused aloud in sudden absent thoughtfulness.

Bumblebee turned wide, slightly incredulous optics to stare sideways at the grey Datsun, who's helm was cocked slightly to the side, musing on Bumblebee's position.

"I uh… take it they've done this to you too?" Bumblebee muttered, hating how high and shaky his vocaliser was.

Bluestreak gave a nervous laugh and realised he was staring, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, door-wings high and tense in embarrassment once more.

"Uh… heh… yea. Ummm… not in a while though… are they still using that auto-setting vib-"

"Bluestreak." Bumblebee interrupted in a voice of strained calm.

"Y-yea?"

"…can you please just get Jazz."

"Oh… sure, sure thing B-Bumblebee…"

"And Blue…"

"…Yea?"

" _Please_ promise not to say anything about this to anyone."

Bluestreak actually smiled as he caught the bright red faceplate half turned his way.

"'Course not. But… can I just ask…"

"Yes?" Bumblebee tried hard to keep the agonised exasperation from his voice. It wasn't Bluestreak's fault he'd walked in on the Twin's secret captive in the middle of his… torture, after all.

"Well, Sunny n Sides asked me to say I was 'facing them last night if anyone asked, but I wasn't… and then Tracks said they got you overcharged in here last night… so did they… you know, with you…. and, um… I guess what I'm asking is, are you… kinda… _involved_ with them, that way, now?"

Bumblebee shuttered his optics, sure his face had just gone an even brighter shade of red.

"N-no… not really, I mean… uh… I'm not involved with them, they're just finding new and more embarrassing ways to mess with me… you know what Sunstreaker is like about minibots." Bumblebee gave a nervous little laugh, praying the gunner would buy it and head off to find Jazz quickly. He wanted _out_ of this mess, and he was about ready to disappear into the floor at the shame of being _caught_ like _this_ _…_

"Oh… yea, I guess that makes more sense… guess I was just kinda hoping I might catch a break, cause those two have been pouncing on me every other cycle and it's kinda eating into my free ti-"

" _Blue._ "

"Oh, right, Jazz… I'll send him over when I find him, we just got back from a call-out… stupid 'Cons trying to steal energon again… I guess this explains why you weren't there, that happened to me once too-"

Bumblebee couldn't quite contain a small groan, head clanking forward onto his arms. He was both completely exasperated by Bluestreak's clueless rambling and the renewed heat deep in his port as the vibrator merrily continued it's random pulsations, oblivious to the fact he had already overloaded.

"I'm just going to go get him now…" Bluestreak mumbled sheepishly as he remembered exactly what position the minibot was in and left, closing the door behind him, to retrieve the Spy's commanding officer.

Bumblebee did like Bluestreak… he was a good comrade. Perhaps a little tedious to socialise with sometimes, but generally he got on very well with the sniper. But he also knew the grey Datsun's habit of rambling… and sincerely hoped he could keep a secret. After all, he'd planned to keep his love-life private from the rest of the Ark. Generally if one wanted to keep something low key, they did not divulge it to one of the ship's biggest gossips.

But then, Bluestreak had never publicly mentioned anything about the Twins doing this to him, so… maybe he wasn't so bad at keeping his vocaliser muted when it counted… pit he must have some amount of self-control or he wouldn't be the crews best sniper.

Bumblebee sighed and groaned softly again at the heat still throbbing through his continuously stimulated valve. His spike was beginning to twinge… if he was here much longer it would probably pressurise again. The smell of his own lubricant and faint tang of ionic discharge in the air from his overload were also not helping to quell his rejuvenating arousal.

* * *

It was another two kliks or so before Bumblebee heard the sound of light pede-falls coming down the hall.

He stiffened, making sure once more that his open and messy interface panel was out of sight, just in case it wasn't Jazz. His fears were quelled once the door whooshed open and the saboteur's soft laugh drifted into the dimly lit room.

"I take it the negotiations went badly?" he purred softly as he closed the door behind him and strolled over to the berth lazily.

Bumblebee relaxed and gave him a rather pained look.

"Pff. Negotiations my aft. As you can probably tell, they didn't really react well to being told I was off-limits." The minibot replied wryly, huffing slightly as he wriggled around to his original position, Jazz taking in the sight of his re-pressurised spike and the copious amounts of his lubricant trailed over the surface of Sideswipe's berth. He seemed to be enjoying the sight, taking in a deep draught through his olfactory vents and humming in appreciation.

"Mmmm, is that a vibrator I hear? No wonder Blue looked so flustered, seems like you got yourself off pretty good Bee."

The spy's face glowed a dull red again and his hips twitched.

"Are you going to help me or taunt me? Don't think just because we had the frag of a lifetime earlier that I won't hold true to my withholding of interface threat." Bumblebee almost growled, back arching slightly as he pulled against the restraints.

Jazz actually laughed, visor a rich azure.

He reached out a servo to the cuffs, but ended up trailing a finger down Bumblebee's arm, slowly moving on to his chassis, making him whine and squirm, taking the finger down to the inside of Bumblebee's leg where it traced lazy circles.

Bumblebee's optics flared as he pouted at his new lover, hoping the saboteur wouldn't torture him further.

"Mmmmm I'm not sure I can take ya seriously when you're strung up so nicely for me Bee… I mean, if I were a proper, noble autobot, I'd have ta respect your wishes… but then, if I really wanted ya, well, right now there ain't much you could do to stop me is there?"

The Porsche's deep tone sent shivers down Bumblebee's back-strut, and he gasped as Jazz's finger moved up his inner thigh seam and traced his absolutely soaked entrance.

He whimpered and bucked at the contact.

"Nnngh… please… Jazz don't… just DO me already, I can't take this again…"

Jazz smiled widely. He could have countered and toyed with him over the withholding interface threat, but seeing his little yellow spy tethered and worked up and so desperate for a solid 'facing that he was _pleading_ him in that rare, lusty tone that Jazz couldn't even have imagined from the minibot, just turned him on so much he couldn't be bothered with being a smart-aft.

Jazz hopped up onto the berth and straddled the small mech, reaching down and retracting his own panel.

Bumblebee devoured his form with eager optics, arching his hips up the moment Jazz revealed his port.

The saboteur chuckled deeply and pressed his palms to Bumblebee's midriff, holding him down against the berth.

Bumblebee had already been so very turned on when Jazz pointed out he was at his superior's mercy, but this was… oh _primus_ now he really knew why Jazz and Prowl liked the cuffs thing.

Jazz held the yellow mech down with one servo… with the other he slipped two digits into Bumblebee's valve, earning himself a soft, shuddering keen from the minibot as he nudged the vibrator while collecting lubricant on his fingers.

He withdrew them when they were coated and took them to his own port, humming in pleasure as he coated his own valve walls with Bumblebee's essence.

Apart from preparing himself faster, he stimulated his own lubrication (not that the very sight and smell of Bumblebee hadn't already gotten him wet, but they had to be fast so as not to arouse suspicion).

Slowly, Jazz lowered himself onto Bumblebees awaiting, quivering spike as the minibot's cooling fans buzzed and his engine revved.

Bumblebee and Jazz both moaned softly as the Porsche's valve contracted around the black and yellow cord.

Bumblebee found himself pulling against his restraints again, hips twitching as that delicious wet heat engulfed his whole spike.

Jazz gave himself a moment to adjust, sighing at the anticipative bliss as he leant forward and began to run his servos over the prone frame beneath him.

Bumblebee gasped and mewled, writhing beautifully at his touch. Jazz could feel the pulsations from the vibrator buried in the minibot's port coming through the smaller mech's cord. It tickled his sensors, making him quiver around the yellow mechs spike before he began a steady rhythm with his hips, raising himself off the spy and pushing back down firmly, hilting Bumblebee in himself each time.

Bumblebee thought he'd had about as many overloads in one day as he could handle… but Jazz and the handcuffs were quickly proving him very wrong. He would have to review his knowledge of his own libido…

As Jazz began to move faster, Bumblebee felt the Porsche's hot glossa caress his chassis and he moaned loudly, bucking up to meet the black hips that came down on his yellow pelvic plating.

Jazz knew he needed to keep the minibot quiet, so that they were not discovered. He moved his mouth up to the small silver faceplate and dove into the shining, parted lips. Bumblebee's glossa immediately reached for his, and the kiss was more feverish than any he had claimed from the spy that day.

Primus, it seemed like it had been so much longer, but it had only been cycles ago…

Jazz only took the feeling as proof that the new relationship was right.

He swallowed the increasing moans from Bumblebee as their hips fell into a rhythm together.

Jazz could barely hold back his own sounds of pleasure as the minibot nipped and licked at his lips, he could hear his ventilators nearly panting as he gave off incredible heat. But then if the Twins had locked him in here since before the Decepticon raid had been dealt with… the poor mech had been teased for well over a cycle, so it was really no wonder he was so desperate for a decent release (though the way Bluestreak had looked, it seemed he'd already managed one at least ).

Jazz went as fast as he could, stroking the glass windows on the sides of Bumblebee's chest plate as he felt himself nearing his climax.

Bumblebee jerked his hips up sharply as Jazz snapped his down, but Bumblebee didn't get a chance to magnetise and plug into Jazz, because the saboteur overloaded, his port spasming around Bumblebee's hot cord, still pulsing with charged energy.

The yellow mech swallowed Jazz's cry as the black and white stiffened, fingers still dancing nimbly across his chassis… But for some reason Bumblebee just couldn't follow him over the edge and he whined in frustration, still thrusting in Jazz's clenching port as it spilled lubricant over his interfacing array.

Jazz didn't realise, in the overwhelming flood of sensations, that Bumblebee hadn't overloaded with him. His ecstasy was prolonged by the minibot's continued thrusting and pressing kiss, and his highly sensitive port walls caught the faint vibrations from the toy stuck in the yellow mechs port.

But as his charge release waned and he started coming back down, he noted Bumblebee's frustrated whine and broke their kiss, pulling back in confusion.

Bumblebee's expression was more desperate than ever… but surely he'd… hadn't he?…

"Bee, didn'tcha?…"

"Nnnnngh, _no,_ my sensors are over-stimulated, they keep adjusting, it's only going to be _harder_ since my other overload… _please_ do something, my circuits are going to melt at this rate!" Bumblebee panted.

Jazz, even though he was still feeling the tingles of his own discharge, found his lust stirred instantly at the sight of the minibot writhing so needily beneath him.

Well, he didn't have a reputation for nothing. It was time to get serious.

Jazz shifted down the berth on all fours and lowered his faceplate to the quivering yellow hips.

He took Bumblebee's charged and twitching spike in his mouth, sucking all of his lubricant off. While doing this he released his cord and teased it out with a servo.

Bumblebee bit his lip to try and stifle his own heated and desperate cries. Jazz's glossa lapped thoroughly at his cord, but it still wasn't enough.

The Porsche didn't keep it up for long though… and when he straightened and released the spy's spike, Bumblebee actually growled in frustration.

Jazz hummed soothingly in response. The minibot _had_ to be beyond desperate now, Jazz had never heard him _growl_ before _._ But Primus did it turn him on…

Jazz spread Bumblebee's legs and settled between them, cupping the yellow aft and lifting it.

Bumblebee's optics widened as Jazz quickly slipped into his sopping entrance. He unsuccessfully bit back a keen as the sizeable spike nudged the still revving vibrator, pushing it further into him until it knocked against Bumblebee's socket.

There was very little the spy could do to keep himself quiet at this point, so Jazz leant over and claimed his mouth again, one hand moving to stroke Bumblebee's spike, the other supporting the yellow hips as Jazz thrust shortly but quickly into the very hot, very wet port.

With a full work-over and Jazz's cord knocking the pulsing object right against his socket, Bumblebee found himself surging into his hardest overload yet, crying out into Jazz's mouth as he arched and quivered violently, bucking madly against the black hips as his whole frame burned with white hot ecstasy that surged right through his core for what seemed like forever.

Jazz chuckled as Bumblebee finally went limp, off lining from what looked like the most intense overload of the minibot's life stream… and that was including their previous activities. Mind it had been very hard won, and if anybody was deserving of such bliss, it was his little spy.

Jazz felt a warm, tingly buzz in the back of his processor to think of the minibot as his… his and Prowls… it did feel so slagging good to be able to do this for him…

Jazz sighed, caressing Bumblebee's still, relaxed faceplate with a thumb as he remained pressed into him.

He allowed the changing rhythms of the vibrator pressed between Bumblebee's plug and his spike tip to work him up to another overload. He doubted Bumblebee would mind him doing so after what he'd just experienced, and when he was done, he magnetised his hub and drew out, pulling the small pod-shaped toy with him.

He turned the lubricant covered, rubber sheathed metal device over in his palms, finding the switch and pressing it, ceasing the buzzing thing's torturous vibrations at last.

Jazz briefly considered keeping it. He knew the Twins would be rather disappointed to lose one of their best torture devices, but the thought of using it on Prowl was sorely tempting… in the end though, he left it, covered in lubricant on Sideswipe's berth (which was likewise quite a mess). If he wanted to use toys on Prowl, he knew where to get better. And where he could get more than one, seeing as he had two mechs to please now.

With that thought warming his sated and buzzing circuits, he quickly and efficiently picked the lock on the cuffs, freeing Bumblebee and leaving them hooked to the wall.

He picked up the cloth discarded by Sideswipe on his chair and used it to clean Bumblebee up before coaxing his cord back into it's housing and closing his panel.

"C'mon Bee. Gotta walk yerself outta here, much as I'd like to carry ya, bots might start getting suspicious." Jazz softly roused the minibot.

Bumblebee came back online slowly with a soft groan and a hum as his optics gradually brightened.

He sat up with Jazz's help and winced slightly, rubbing his wrists.

"Ya OK?" Jazz asked with a crooked grin.

"Mmmph… yea… port's a bit sore." Bumblebee answered sheepishly.

The saboteur merely smiled and helped him to his feet.

"Don't worry, I've got just the thing for that back at mine. Why didn't ya comm. Prowl to come get you sooner? You know he's still on orders to stay on base when we get called out to deal with 'Cons."

"Didn't want him to know… I mean he's pretty hard on the Twins most of the time, but I can only imagine what a horny Prowl would do to them if he found out they'd done this…"

Jazz laughed at Bumblebee's frank reply, opening the door and stepping into the deserted hall, his pace slowed for the minibot, who was rather stiff legged as he walked with the black and white mech.

When they reached Jazz's quarters, having (thankfully) not met anyone on the way, the Porsche got Bumblebee to lie down on his berth while he ferreted around in one of his drawers.

The saboteur cued some music on his sound system remotely, and pleasant, bass heavy jazz floated through the room.

Bumblebee relaxed, enjoying the atmosphere of his superior's quarters. They seemed big, but his and Cliffjumper's room was the same size, it was just that they shared it, and being smaller mechs they still enjoyed a reasonable amount of space. Bumblebee had been in here many times before though, going over special ops plans and tech and whatever, or just hanging out and socialising, usually all at the same time. He liked the slight clutter of Earth and Cybertron related souvenirs and paraphernalia scattered about. The neatest part of the room was Jazz's music collection, which was housed on a set of shelves against the wall opposite the berth.

The saboteur shuffled back over to the berth and sat beside his exhausted looking companion, who was lying back and rolling his shoulder joints slightly to ease the tension in his cables from the cuffs.

Jazz nudged Bumblebee's legs open and the minibot complied passively, not even batting a shutter as the Porsche opened up his panel again.

"So where is Prowl, shouldn't he be off-shift by now? Oh, and how did that 'Con problem go?"

Bumblebee asked lazily as Jazz uncapped the tube in his hands and began to coat one of his index fingers liberally with some clear gel-like substance.

"He's just filing a few extra reports, he'll be done pretty soon. Extra reports are from the 'Con attack actually. It wasn't anything major, Starscream went maverick again, attacked an oil refinery with his trine and a couple o' the Combaticons. Don't know why it wasn't all of them, couldn't even form Bruticus. They held us up while the three seeker-stooges made off with a measly amount of stolen energon and then the Combaticons ran with their antennae-tails between their legs. More of a nuisance than a real threat, but luckily damage was minimal and no humans were seriously hurt."

As Jazz explained, he had pressed his gel covered finger gently into Bumblebee's over-warm port and spread the substance all over the valve walls.

Bumblebee winced once and shifted a little uncomfortably until the gel's cooling effect began to set in and he sighed through his vents in relief, enjoying the soothing ministrations.

"Good to hear that. Just as well it sounds like I wasn't really needed, or I'd have to plan a _really_ awful revenge for those two fragging Lambo's." Bumblebee grumbled with a slight smile.

"Aww, ya mean you're not goin' to now?" Jazz said with a fake pout.

Bumblebee's smile turned into a mischievous grin. "Of course I am, but I'll make sure the punishment fits the crime."

"Aww, Prowler would be so proud o' ya."

They both giggled, falling into broken but comfortable conversation the way they always did, waiting for the tactician's arrival.

"…You knew, didn't you?" Bumblebee asked a little wryly after they'd been silently listening to a particularly snazzy piece of drum solo.

"Hmm? Knew what?" Jazz asked curiously, head rolling to the side to look down at the yellow mech still laying across-ways over the berth.

"What would happen when I talked to the twins. I mean I was never quite clear on how that plan was supposed to go beyond me getting them off, telling them the deal and then getting out of there… how did you know what they'd do?"

The minibot fixed Jazz with an unfaltering gaze and rather blank expression.

"Are ya angry at me?" Jazz asked, putting on his best told-off petro-puppy look.

Bumblebee decided he was too cute for his own good pouting guiltily like that.

"No, not really… it's not as if I didn't get something out of it… but I just can't figure out how you knew, 'cause you didn't really seem surprised when you came in and found me like that."

"Ah, well, ya ain't the first mech I've saved from that particular position. I only thought it might be a possibility, I wasn't sure they'd definitely do it… thought they might go easy on ya 'cause it's you, but I suppose they've seen the other side of ya now so… I was kinda surprised they didn't use the ball gag. Then again, maybe that's just for Blue." Jazz chuckled as Bumblebee baulked slightly.

"Yea, unfortunately Blue mentioned something like that when he… walked in on me. I don't suppose the Decepticon thing figured into your plans though?" Bumblebee said, his tone good natured rather than annoyed. He was too drowsy and content to really feel slighted over the incident.

"Nah, that bit did sidetrack me I admit. I meant to come check the Twins quarters half a cycle after the end of your shift. But then you could always repay Starscream next battle for letting you enjoy the Twin's toys for a good long time, heheh hey!"

Bumblebee slapped Jazz's leg with the back of his servo giving him a half pouty, half amused look.

The two turned their heads as the door opened with a soft whoosh and Prowl finally entered with a slightly tired yet content smile on his faceplate.

"How did it go with the Twins?" He asked after touching his chevron to both their foreheads and settling himself down at the head of Jazz's berth so that Bumblebee was between his two new partners.

"Heh, well… they weren't overly pleased, but they said they'll respect my wishes. Be interesting to see how long that lasts." Bumblebee replied, engine purring happily as Prowl absently stroked a finger over his helm.

"Mmm, well that's all we could really hope for I suppose. Oh, you don't have to Jazz, if you two were enjoying-"

"S'alright Prowler, it was just background noise. Here Bee, this is some of what Prowl's into. Don't think ya'd have heard him listenin' to much before. Prowl's got a big secret you know." Jazz half whispered conspiratorially to the yellow mech as he changed the music to a classical cello piece.

Bumblebee found the new piece of earth music quite intriguing. He hadn't heard much in the way of orchestral pieces. He usually just listened to what Spike or Jazz were playing, which was generally something contemporary.

"Oh really? Is it something I should know?" Bumblebee melodramatically whispered back as a sheepish grin crossed Prowl's face.

"Well it's something' I think most bots should know, but Prowl seems shy about it. Ya see, he's almost as crazy about music as me. Not the same stuff usually, but he _loves_ anything with classical human instruments. Especially cellos."

"Wow… you mean, underneath the Tactician is a _normal_ mech who likes _normal_ things? I… I'm not sure I could ever possibly believe you." Bumblebee answered in a tone of mock disbelief, giggling as Prowl ducked his helm and chuckled.

"It's true, I admit it, I am not emotionless or sparkless… my reputation is ruined!" Prowl uttered, joining in slightly with Bumblebee's over-acting and frowning in a melancholy way before Jazz's laugh made him crack another smile.

"Yes, Jazz is right. I've always liked my music. Earth has proven a great source for my habit. The only problem with my love of cellos is that it is somewhat tragic…" Prowl gave a real sigh, tilting his head back against the wall and absorbing Bach's prelude from cello suite no.1.

"I would very much like to play one, but while they are large instruments by human standards, the strings are much too small for me, I could never do the finger work properly. And making a larger one would create a completely different sound texture, and double basses just aren't quite the same." the Datsun gave a soft sigh and Bumblebee rolled onto his side, reaching out to take one of the white servos in his own.

"That is a shame. But I can tell you from experience, your finger work is excellent."

His tone was perfectly sincere as he ran his thumbs over the tacticians hands, but Jazz burst out giggling. And to Bumblebee's delight, Prowl ended up trying to choke back a soft laugh too, bending down to kiss Bumblebee's helm affectionately.

When the music finished, it led into another piece that included piano.

Bumblebee's faceplate relaxed into a blank, almost curious expression as he listened. He liked music, but it had never… really _captured_ him… not like this.

He stilled completely, letting the melodies wash across his audios as Prowl went back to stroking his helm softly with a thumb.

None of them spoke as it played. It almost… scared Bumblebee, that something as simple as music could suddenly take hold of his spark and… what exactly _was_ happening?

It occurred to Bumblebee that the rhythm of his spark pulse was tuning into the flow of the tempo, sending small thrills through his circuits. It was such a new feeling to him… so different.

Was this what Jazz and Prowl felt? Was this what had them hooked?

Bumblebee stopped thinking about it for a moment and just listened, until the song wound it's way through it's fluctuating melody and softly drew to it's end.

A small thought flitted across Bumblebee's processor in the wake of the captivating piece…

It had hit him so deeply at his spark because it… it almost somehow _described_ his past orn, in an emotional sense, or at least the climax of the last orn, which had been earlier in the day.

But what caught him the most, hitting true to his very core, was how uplifting it felt… not just to be so intensely affected by simple, manipulated sounds… but to realise just what he had with the two mechs either side of him.

It was seemingly only sinking in now, after the whirlwind of passion and the settling into this new thing they now shared, that he could step back and really see it for what it was.

The next piece of music to start up didn't capture Bumblebee at all in the same way as the last one, but he didn't care. He was focusing on the swelling warmth in his spark.

Never before had he been so readily accepted like this… taken in and shown affection, primus even _lusted_ after in Prowl's case… and for the first time in a long time he felt his trust was not misplaced. How many vorns had he known them both? How many times had each saved the other's spark in battle?

It had seemed so unreal, all day, even though the thought of it all made him smile. Now suddenly it was hitting home and… he wasn't quite sure just how to express the swell of emotions in his spark.

"I take it ya liked that other one huh?" Jazz murmured softly, almost slightly amused, near his helm.

Bumblebee onlined optics he hadn't realised he'd shut off and turned his helm to beam at the saboteur, who he hadn't noticed leaning back to lie beside him.

"I've… never really… _felt_ music like that." he admitted. And the truth was he doubted the piece would have captured him at all if he wasn't in the position he was, if he wasn't with the two of them, sharing this joy in an intimate and very personal way.

"We shall have to introduce you to more of it's like then. I think too many bots go through their life-stream ignorant to such important pleasures as _truly_ listening to music." Prowl said softly.

"Sounds good to me.. Or at least it will." Bumblebee answered with a big grin.

"Might as well start now. Let's see, what do we have here…" Jazz murmured as he remote pinged his sound system and mentally flipped through the audio data-chips it held.

"Don't you have that new one you found for me not long ago? I thought you might have put it with all the other cello tracks." Prowl asked curiously.

"Hey yea, I do… not as upbeat as that other one, but certainly more modern." Jazz explained to Bumblebee as he flipped through the music files until he came to the right one.

Jazz lay back down next to Bumblebee, resting his helm against the spy's, who instinctively rubbed his horn gently against the Porsche's own, earning a purr from his engine.

The music was indeed quite a bit more melancholic than the song that had first caught Bumblebee, but he quickly became lost in the melody.

It was much more intense. Bumblebee felt shivers trickle across his circuits as his spark once again tried to sympathise with the frequencies of the music.

He was conscious of shutting off his optics this time, wanting to concentrate on the sound and really appreciate it, like Prowl said.

The longer he really listened, the more he felt as if he wasn't really there. It was so very strange, to be transported by his processor as it was guided by the music, to follow trains of thought triggered by the memory files the music piqued. None of them were pleasant, but none were horrible either.

And then he wondered what the others saw in their heads as they listened.

Bumblebee onlined his optics and looked at Prowl above him. The Datsun's optics were unfocused and his gaze distant. He seemed lost in his own thoughts.

Jazz had turned his visor off and seemed to be following the music as if he himself were conducting it, the corner of his mouth twitching and quirking in response to the scarce lyrics or the changing of instrumental patterns.

Bumblebee offlined his optics again, and in his mind the music transported him once more to memories.

He was driving. Fast. Hard. Back on cybertron, in his original alt. mode.

He was leaving Iacon… because of Ignitor. And the music made his spark throb as the emotions became solid once more.

 _Betrayed..._ why had he done that? Why had Ignitors friends approval been so important to him, when Bumblebee had offered up his affection? Had gone out of his way to please him? He hadn't done _anything_ wrong to him. And then he'd turned around and thrown it in Bumblebee's face like he should get the joke.

Bumblebee cycled a long ventilation.

He was over this, he'd been over this for millions… _millions_ of years.

And yet it was hurting again now?

Bumblebee was suddenly finding the effects of the music less enamouring… but he couldn't deny it's beauty… the mix of tones and the melody and rhythms flowed so wonderfully across his audio receptors…

He supposed the problem was… he could never _understand_ what had been done to him. Even though he'd once been that sly, impulsive, slightly wild mech, the nature he stuck by now was still truly and fundamentally _him._ Not an act. Not forced. He genuinely cared about others, sometimes too much. He was happy to sacrifice things to make others feel better, to brighten their day, he _lived_ to make those around him smile.

He realised just how naive it was of him to expect others to be the same way. Ignitor _wasn't_ fundamentally genuine. Neither had Sunstorm been. He'd left himself open, so trusting, so eager to please, he hadn't thought about how vulnerable he'd left himself to getting hurt.

He had learnt his lesson though, hadn't he? Learnt it long and hard…

But he still couldn't bring himself to feel bitter. Especially not now.

Bumblebee didn't realise the song had ended and another had begun. It was a soothing melody, as if there to quell whatever effects the other had caused.

Bumblebee looked up at Prowl again, who still had that curious far-off look in his optics.

"Does that… make you remember stuff?" Bumblebee asked tentatively, unsure if it was something up for discussion.

Prowls optics drifted back into focus and landed on Bumblebee's as the spy shifted onto his side again, brushing his helm almost shyly over the Tactician's knee joint.

A small, sad smile ghosted across Prowl's face and his optics brightened slightly.

"Yes… it reminds me of Praxus." he said softly, and Bumblebee rested his helm fully on the white and black leg armour, running a servo gently along a seam that led down to the datsun's pede.

No further explanation was needed. Bumblebee wouldn't push for details. Everyone knew, painfully well, the fate of Praxus and the absolute devastation of the attack so early in the war. The very few survivors didn't talk about experiencing it first hand, but no one would pry… it wasn't hard to guess given the account of search and rescue teams.

Bumblebee suddenly felt like the melancholic emotions he himself had felt were paltry and childish in comparison.

"Hmmm. Think we need a mood change here." Jazz said quietly as the next song came to an end.

Bumblebee was not expecting the heavy bass, nor the… _exotic_ nature of the music that filled the room.

One look at the surge in Prowl's optics told him the Tactician hadn't either. And to the spy's slight confusion but curious delight, the black and white mech fairly purred at the sounds.

"Don't think you can fool me Prowler. Got a ways to go before you stop wantin' ta face all the time. And I know what extra report filing does to ya."

Jazz teased the datsun in a low, sensuous, slightly amused voice.

Prowl allowed his optics to darken, cooling fans giving a soft whirr. Apparently he really _was_ as affected by music as Jazz.

And Bumblebee couldn't blame him… the sight of those intelligent optics deepening in colour and the sound of his engine along with the deep, enticing melody was making Bumblebee feel a little warmer himself, despite the fact he thought there was no possible way he could still have any sort of 'face drive.

"Well I _was_ trying not to overwhelm Bumblebee. Not that I don't want to continue our earlier activities…" Prowl murmured, giving Bumblebee an almost sheepish smile, making the Minibot's engine thrum in response, "… but I noticed the coolant gel out and didn't want to make you feel pressured into anything." Prowl revealed softly, door wings fluttering a little in slight embarrassment as his cooling fans, suppressed since he walked into Jazz's quarters, whirred now completely out of his control.

Bumblebee's faceplate heated to a dull red and he traced a distracted circle on Prowl's leg.

"You don't need to hold back for me, it's just… been a while, and my port hasn't seen this much action in vorns, it's a little out of… condition. You shouldn't deny yourself on my account" he replied with an even more sheepish expression.

"If you're sure…" Prowl gazed at Bumblebee with a look almost like a sparkling hoping it's creator would allow it a treat.

Bumblebee gave Jazz a fleeting glance. "Ya don't have to do anything if yer tired Bee… we can put on a show for ya." the saboteur grinned deviously.

"OK, but one thing…" Bumblebee said, optics turning back to Prowl's as he nuzzled the black inside leg plating. "Can I… play with your door wings?"

Prowl's optics surged with surprise and lust at Bumblebee's hasty, almost shy request. After a moment in which he tried to compose himself, he answered in an almost strained voice, "'Yes' seems like an insufficient answer… 'primus, _please'_ seems much more fitting."

Bumblebee's faceplate split into a smile as Prowl fairly panted at his request. Apparently the very idea was turning him on something fierce.

"C'mon over here Prowler, be easier if you and Bee switch places." Jazz purred in a relaxed way, and Prowl slid around the edge of the berth while the saboteur got to his knees and shuffled back to the end of the soft, slightly springy platform.

The tactician assumed an exceptionally enticing position on his knees and elbows, aft raised high for Jazz while his front was low and door wings flared and made so very accessible for Bumblebee.

The Porsche wasted no time in opening his and Prowl's panels. Bumblebee could smell the lubricant… Jazz obviously had too much experience with Prowl's 'heats' for the Datsun to hide his near constant arousal near him.

As Prowl hummed and sighed in satisfaction from Jazz inserting a few digits into his hot, dripping entrance, Bumblebee brushed his fingers affectionately over Prowl's chevron before reaching up and over the Tactician's helm to his door-wings.

Bumblebee had been thinking about them on patrol… having realised his intense affection for Prowl's mannerisms only that morning, his thoughts had often concentrated on the sensory panels and their quirky nature on a mech as serious as Prowl.

His fascination for them had only grown, and as he explored their surface and shape, his interest was piqued further.

Prowl moaned softly and the panels quivered and arched forward into the touches. As Bumblebee ran his fingers along the smooth leading edges, the sensory appendages would twitch in response to the deep thrums of bass coming from the music Jazz had picked.

Prowl gasped as Jazz removed his fingers and slowly slid his extended and half-pressurised spike into the slick, awaiting valve.

Jazz gasped as well and groaned in satisfaction as the wet, clenching heat made him fully pressurised, and he started a slow, steady rhythm within the tactician, matching the music.

Prowl seemed quickly driven into an incoherent state of bliss between Jazz's spike, Bumblebee's curious touches and the seductive tone of the song.

Bumblebee was intensely focussed on his exploration of Prowl's door wings, pinching the tips, kneading the edges, tracing delicate and firm patterns across their broad surfaces and enjoying all the varied reactions his ministrations caused.

He gasped and doubled over slightly, catching himself on the stiff, flared out panels as Prowl pushed his lowered helm forward and gave Bumblebee's interface panel a firm, hot lick.

Bumblebee gasped and groaned as more hard laps followed. He trailed is palms down the back of the door-wings until they met in the middle, where he dipped them into the hinges.

Prowl keened softly and flapped the wings a little, hot gasping pants wafting over Bumblebee's heated panel as he groaned in pleasure.

"Your spike isn't sore is it?" Prowl moaned somewhere beneath Bumblebee's midriff.

"No… just my port, why- OH!"

Bumblebee's reply was cut short with a breathy exclamation as Prowl's digits swiftly opened his panel and a finger was run around the tip of his recessed cord.

"Nnnn-nhaaahhh…" Bumblebee exclaimed softly at the touch, feeling his cord beginning to pressurise in it's housing.

Prowl quickly unlatched it as Bumblebee kneaded his fingers deep into the door-wing joints on Prowl's back, stroking wires and deeper sensor nodes.

Jazz turned the music up slightly and revelled in the shiver that ran through Prowl's frame before he picked up his pace.

It was as Jazz's motions began to rock Prowl back and forth and the music picked up intoxicatingly that the tactician's lips closed around the tip of Bumblebee's very aroused spike.

Bumblebee keened in pleasure as Prowl started giving his cable a thorough work-over with his slick glossa, warm mouth sealing and sucking lightly on the tip.

Bumblebee tried to stop himself from bucking at the blissful sensations and went about running his servos over the expanse of the Datsun's door-wings again to see what effect he could have.

His efforts became fumbled as Prowl took in more of his cord with every rocking motion, Jazz picking up a heated pace in the SIC's valve. The music along with the soft wet sounds and Prowl's grunts and moans of pleasure were bringing Bumblebee's charge up a lot faster than he expected.

The Minibot's hands flew back to the hinges of the sensory appendages as he whimpered softly and doubled over, tension-cables unable to steadily hold him upright with the strong waves of pleasure coursing up his frame.

He arched his back-strut as he rested his helm over his hands.

When Prowl started drawing on and off of his cord with Jazz's thrusts, Bumblebee pressed his lips hard to one of the arching door-wings and moaned, mouthing the surface blindly and lapping at the smooth metal.

Prowl groaned and whimpered around his spike, sucking and lashing it with his tongue as Jazz filled him perfectly and Bumblebee lavished attention on his door-wings.

Bumblebee wasn't sure why he was surprised when Prowl stiffened beneath him, keening loudly, door wings quivering madly under his glossa and fingers… and in his overload, the tactician hilted Bumblebee in his mouth and sucked hard, making the minibot gasp and probe his digits deep into the winglet-joints to stroke the transformation cogs.

Jazz gave a few more powerful thrusts in Prowl's noisily wet and obviously clenching port before he too cascaded into his overload with a moan that matched the pitch of the music.

Bumblebee giggled against one of Prowl's doors, continuing to please himself with running his glossa along it like a cyber-cat.

Prowl groaned as his overload subsided before he resumed his attentions on Bumblebee's cord.

Jazz rested on Prowl's lower back, ventilations panting slightly as he watched Bumblebee with something between curiosity and blissful amusement.

With a crooked grin, he reached out and took one of Bumblebee's horns between his digits, stroking it firmly with a thumb, making Bumblebee gasp and moan against Prowl's plating.

The tactician was giving him an intense work-over now, and Bumblebee felt himself teetering on the brink of charge release with a few desperate pants, clutching the bottom edges of Prowl's door wings.

Prowl had only to reach up a servo and run his thumb in light circles over one of the secret hot-spots on Bumblebee's midriff to send the spy crashing into a hard overload with a loud 'NYAAAhaaaa!".

Bumblebee was suddenly glad for the music covering his only half-stifled cry of bliss.

When the tingling throbs of exquisite electric discharge began to abate, Bumblebee leant back, freeing Prowl form his awkward position as Jazz drew out opposite him with a grin.

The yellow mech flumped back onto the berth, panting through his vents as his armour pinged lightly, cooling. His legs lay widespread and haphazard, and he gave a soft mewl as Prowl crawled forward, lowering himself further to continue lapping gently… almost playfully at his half depressurised spike.

It was an exceptionally pleasing sensation to have his interface cable softly stimulated further after his overload, and he groaned, squirming slightly.

He giggled again as his processor brought back the small fleeting thought he'd had after watching Jazz overload.

"What on Cybertron are you finding so funny?" Prowl asked in a tone more curiously amused than bewildered.

"I… heh… maybe 'Sides was right… nice guys do _come_ last…" and he giggled some more.

It took Prowl a blank faced moment to deduce what Bumblebee was on about before he ducked his helm and offlined his optics, his chassis shaking with a rich, incredulous laugh.

"Primus, you're as incorrigible in berth as Jazz, between you it's a wonder we're interfacing and not snorting behind out servos at the very idea of it." The Tactician chuckled, the sound cut off with a small yelp as Jazz smacked the SIC's aft, which was still raised up behind him.

Jazz chuckled at both Prowl's smouldering gaze at him and Bumblebee's innuendo.

"Nice guys only come last if the naughty bots aren't doin' their job properly." He purred deeply as Prowl shuffled over to allow the saboteur to lie on his front beside him on the berth.

"So Sideswipe said that to you when you went to talk to them this afternoon?" Prowl asked, finger trailing absently over one of the lights on Bumblebee's pede nearest him.

Bumblebee twitched and stifled a small giggle. "Hey! Watch that, I'm ticklish on the headlights, extra movement sensors there…heh, yea he did, but he wasn't being mean. Actually I said I was sure I'd come first at least once last night (Jazz snorted at this, and Prowl's wings flapped in amusement), and then Sunny got all flustered 'cause he likes it when I make dirty jokes apparently."

"So do I, for that matter." Jazz purred with a sly grin, kicking his legs up a little behind him as he started playing with Bumblebee's other pede while the minibot sat himself up to face them properly.

"Well that joke was at least better than your Peanut, Butter and Jelly one." Prowl said with a grin.

"Aw that one wasn't all that bad, you just didn't get it cause ya don't hang out with humans much." Jazz said, rocking to bump his shoulder against Prowl's.

"It wasn't so much the joke as the timing." Prowl countered primly.

"Timing was perfect, we _were_ kinda sandwiched together." Jazz came back without missing a beat.

Prowl decided to ignore his defeat and turned his attention to Bumblebee again instead, still tracing his fingers over the silver bumper bar on the spy's pede.

"So were they upset? Or at least whatever passes for upset with those two, I usually only get a measure of how devious or how angry they're feeling and not much in between." Prowl asked, sounding almost curious.

Bumblebee smiled. "That's because you only see them when they're planning a prank or you caught them at it. Yes, actually they seemed kinda put-out when I told them I was involved with other bots now."

"Even after you overloaded them?"

Bumblebee gave a small start at Prowl's matter-of-fact tone as he looked innocently up at him, fingers drawing circles on the yellow armour of his stabilising servos.

"Oh, yea, I kinda told Prowler our 'plan' before that 'Con attack this afternoon." Jazz explained quickly with an apologetic grin and a knowing flash of his visor.

"Oh… well, yea, even after that… they kinda got a bit offended when I told them you guys didn't want them interfacing with me."

"Well, it might do them good to learn courtesy to other's wishes… of course if _you_ wish to interface with _them,_ that's another matter." Prowl said calmly with the ghost of a coy smile.

"I really appreciate that you'd be OK with that… but I like to stick with who I'm closest to. I don't know what it is, I just don't feel totally right being intimate like that with other mechs for the sake of just the interfacing when I've only just gotten with you guys. And I know this sounds kinda contradictory, but you know I don't mind if either of you… well, if Jazz wants to interface with any other bot. I know you don't really do that Prowl so I suppose the issue is void there."

"Aw, I appreciate that Bee. I do like to keep my more personal feelin's to Prowl, and you now too… but on occasion Prowl doesn't mind me helping' other bots out if I see 'em in need, ya know? But I'm cool if you wanna stick with us, just know ya can get funky with another bot for fun and we won't be hurt, so long as _you_ wanted it. I ain't gonna tolerate anyone forcin' themselves on ya though."

Prowl hummed in agreement with the more serious noted end of Jazz's statement.

"Aw I don't think any bot on the Ark would do that to me. But… that reminds me, Sunny said to tell you, and I didn't tell them it was you two but they had fun guessing completely wrong… anyway, Sunny got stroppy 'cause he said they claimed me first. He's basically adopted me as a pet."

"A pet? Isn't that rather condescending?" Prowl frowned.

"No, they mean it in good fun, I was actually the one to mention pets this morning and they ran with the joke." Bumblebee explained in a reassuring tone. Prowl's wings twitched and relaxed again, making Bumblebee smile slightly.

"They weren't expectin' a deeper relationship outta ya were they?" Jazz asked bemusedly, toying with one of Bumblebee's tyres, grinning widely as it made the beetle's engine purr.

"No, I pretty much set the cards on the table there. I think all they were expecting was what they have with anyone else they frag… a friends with benefits arrangement." The minibot said, throwing Prowl a mischievous look.

"Well, maybe I should draft a no pets rule, then they won't have a claim on taking you to their berth." Prowl said airily with a small flap of his door-wings.

"Haha, somehow I think they'd take about as much notice of that rule as any of ya others Prowler." Jazz chuckled, and Prowl conceded the truth of that statement with a nod and a sigh.

"And I still have to punish them for keeping you locked in their room for a over a cycle. That was just childish."

"How did you… Jazz you didn't tell him about that did-"

"Nah Bee… sorry I didn't warn ya though, but there ain't much ya can keep from Prowler. He ain't a dim spark, our second, that's for sure." Jazz said with an apologetic grin to Bumblebee and a cheeky look to Prowl.

"Why didn't you comm. me? You know I've been taken off the active combat field for a while, I was here the whole time. I only found out when you were reported off shift but absent from the battle when everyone returned, so I checked Red's surveillance cache. Surely you would have preferred I find you rather than Bluestreak… I imagine that was somewhat embarrassing, for the both of you."

A smile spread over Prowl's face the longer he talked and the wider Bumblebee's optics got.

Bumblebee mouthed wordlessly at him for a few nano-kliks before looking desperately at Jazz for a clue as to how Prowl knew so much.

"I ain't the only one that's saved Bluestreak from that position Bee." Jazz admitted, looking like he was holding back a laugh.

Bumblebee's faceplate glowed bright red. "So you know what they did?"

"Indeed. And they are not getting away with it as easily as they think." Prowl said in a low tone, optics smouldering.

"No, they aren't… but I'll be able to get them back on my own." Bumblebee said, some confidence returning to his voice. Prowl looked at him with curious surprise and Bee's faceplate curled into a mischievous smile. "Anyway, the more you guys get involved in stuff between me and them, the more suspicious they'll get."

"…If you're sure." Prowl said, tilting his helm slightly, door-wings waving slowly.

"Oh trust me… they'll regret leaving me to get revved up all cycle."

"Well, no need to be too hard on 'em… they did help you discover your liking for cuffs." Jazz said with an amused grin.

Prowl's optics flashed between Jazz and Bumblebee, the latter smiling guiltily.

"Oh really? Just when I thought I was getting used to the unseen side of Bumblebee, you manage to surprise me yet again." Prowl smiled quirkily, tracing the wheel well on the minibots ankle rotor.

Bumblebee's engine purred again as pede sensors lit up at the tactician's touch.

"My kink is as new to me as it is to you." he admitted sheepishly.

"Perhaps we should familiarise you with it a little better." Prowl purred, reaching into his sub-space and drawing out a pair of cuffs very much like the ones the Twins had put him in.

"You carry those with you as standard?" Bumblebee asked with coy amusement as he felt his core temperature rise a few degrees.

"Only when I know I will have use of them. I picked them up from my quarters before I came over, just in case."

"That's our Prowler, always suitably prepared." Jazz sniggered.

Bumblebee bit his bottom lip, a tingle of anticipation fluttering over his circuits as he wondered what they would do to him in those cuffs, when to his utter surprise, Prowl handed them to Jazz, who secured them swiftly and expertly around the tactician's wrists as Prowl reached them back behind himself.

Hot lust quite unlike anything Bumblebee had known in a long time surged through him as soon as Prowl was on his knees, back arched gracefully, servos fettered behind him and making his door wings hitch up and flare.

"Betcha weren't expectin' to be given a taste of the other side of the cuffs huh?" Jazz said with a knowing, crooked smile.

* * *

Much to Bumblebee's surprised delight, Jazz had a large selection of music perfectly suited to interfacing, and he was convinced it played a significant part in his consistent libido. Although getting to play with and then spike a cuffed and obviously still very horny Prowl was quite the turn on too.

It wasn't in Bumblebee's nature to interface roughly… but when his usual considerate pace had Prowl begging him to take him harder, he had to look to Jazz for affirmation.

Jazz was having a fantastic time driving Prowl mad with feather light touches all over his chassis and brief laps of his glossa across the tactician's parted, panting lips. He drew back just far enough that Prowl wouldn't reach forward because that would mean drawing away from Bumblebee's spike, and the datsun moaned in heated, exquisite frustration.

"S'ok Bee, that's how he needs it when he's like this. Harder he gets it, the more satisfied he is." Jazz panted, fans whirring away as he smirked, stroking his pressurised cord where Prowl could see it, the tactician's engine revving and port clenching in response. Prowl moaned desperately again, and Bumblebee bit his lip before attempting a sharp thrust into the exceptionally wet valve.

Prowl gasped, but it didn't sound like he did it from pain, so gritting his denta, Bumblebee repeated the sharp motion.

Even as Bumblebee began a hard, if not fast pace, he found the quick motions sent a peculiar heat through him. Coupled with the pleasured gasps and growls Prowl was making, he soon settled into a slightly faster pace, letting the sensations take him, even if he still felt odd interfacing in this way.

"C'mon Bee… I want to see that naughty side I know you have… the Bumblebee that went to parties and made seekers _lust_ after him… the Bumblebee that can break into Decepticon strongholds and snatch weapons right out of Megatron's servos… you don't have to hide from us, we'll take all of you." Jazz purred as he continued touching himself while Prowl moaned and watched with smouldering azure optics, unable with his hands cuffed to reach out and pleasure his Porsche.

Jazz had sensed the minibot's unease with the prospect of rougher interfacing, but he saw his words had the desired effect.

For Bumblebee it was like someone turned a light on in his processor. It had been so long since he'd let go, and he never usually slipped into the Bumblebee he was when he was in his element. In fact, Jazz and Mirage were probably the only mechs on the Ark who had seen the spy-Bee… and he was a whole lot more… _dangerous_ when he was working like that, and he knew it.

And _Oh,_ Jazz wanted him to be _that_ Bumblebee… well that did make the idea of vigorous interfacing more achievable.

Prowl noticed the difference as Bumblebee's motions became more natural and less unsure. He let out a breathy keen as the black and yellow cord jerked deep and quick into his port, hitting a sensor on the upper edge dead on. The spy's retreating movements were slower and quite fluid, the yellow hips rolling to stroke the underside of his cord on Prowl's valve walls before he suddenly slammed the length back in, deep, making sure to hit the upper edge and all it's sensors again.

Prowl cried out, and Jazz devoured his cries with a passionate kiss, rocking with the tactician as he snapped his hips back to meet Bumblebee's.

The music wasn't quite loud enough to cover the ringing sound of metal on metal, but Jazz's quarters had been sound-proofed a long time ago to prevent him from disturbing others with his infatuation with sound. The music itself was once again helping Bumblebee, it was the same sort they used to play in the clubs he once frequented, and the reminder of that atmosphere made it that much easier to slip into his less reserved side.

Jazz stroked Prowl's extended cord as well as his own, moving his head as Prowl kissed him hard.

He watched Bumblebee as the yellow mech fell into the comfortable persona of a trained professional having fun. On missions, Bumblebee's sharp intelligence and dry wit came out in ways he never let it normally. It was a combination of how he dealt with the stress of his job and the lack of concentrating on what he acted like in favour of how well he carried out his mission.

Bumblebee's optics were as dark as Prowls as he comfortably gave the Datsun what looked like a _very_ satisfying pounding. The small black servos clung to ebony hips and dug right into the plating, scratching against the surface to ignite the sensors in the joints underneath. They slid across the metal panels and into Prowl's hip joints, making the black and white mech cry out in bliss into Jazz's mouth, lashing at his glossa with his own.

Jazz moaned back as he heard Bumblebee give a strong, satisfied purr.

Prowl began to buck and whimper as Bumblebee's pace continued unfalteringly.

When he had Prowl trembling, he plugged in, and the datsun thrummed spark energy across the connection immediately, overloading both of them and sending Jazz into his own climax at the sight and sound of it.

'Spy-Bee' stayed active for the rest of the evening's activities, much to Prowl and Jazz's delight.

Once Jazz had had a turn in the cuffs and been ridden by Prowl (which Bumblebee swore he could have overloaded from just by watching), Bumblebee then had a turn doing the same thing to Prowl. The pain in his port had gone with the cooling gel and his arousal was so high he doubted he would have cared about the pain if it was still there.

He and Jazz had then draped themselves over the tactician as he lay there, playing with him and each other, until finally they fulfilled his wish from earlier in the day and gave him a taste of what it felt like to be filled by two spikes at once.

Bumblebee's usual personality had a moment of slight worry after this, thinking that some-mech must have heard Prowl as he overloaded extremely noisily from this session. But Jazz had waylaid his fears but reminding him that his neighbours knew the two would be in there tonight and were probably staying late in the common room to avoid hearing anything that got past the soundproofing (which apparently happened inevitably when Prowl was this worked up).

After this, the three were thoroughly exhausted and admitted that they really, _really_ had reached their interfacing limit for the day. Even Prowl.

"Ya welcome to stay here tonight Bee." Jazz murred happily into his helm as he snuggled up to Bumblebee's side where he lay panting on his back on the berth.

"I want him too as well, but won't Cliffjumper get suspicious if he's away from his berth for two recharge cycles running?" Prowl said in a disappointed voice of reason as he re-subspaced his cuffs.

"Nope, already thought o' that. He's still in medbay, over-night cause he's got welds that need to set. Ratchet chewed him out for getting hit by a missile from Swindle." Jazz replied with a wide grin.

"Wouldn't matter if he was there anyway. He's used to me staying late with Jazz, and I get up before him most on-cycles, so it's not uncommon for him to miss me completely one or two days running, he wouldn't know if I'd come and gone or not." Bumblebee explained as he pressed into the contact with Jazz.

He was pleasantly drowsy now, and last night with the Twins had reminded him how much he missed sharing a berth. Even if they hadn't asked him to stay, Bumblebee was sure he would have requested it himself.

Jazz had employed his slide out extension component in his berth some time during their activities. He finally turned off the music as Prowl quickly and simply wiped any lubricant stains off the surface. They would all wash tomorrow, it was much too late and they were all too drained to use Jazz's wash racks (which he barely ever used himself, preferring to socialise in the main wash racks).

The black and white mech slid onto the widened surface of the berth and shuffled in so that Bumblebee was between them.

Neither of them bear-hugged him like Sideswipe had done, but instead they each threw an arm over his chassis as he lay on his back.

"I suppose I should go see Ratchet tomorrow, seeing as I don't have a shift till about mid joor. Not good to walk around with all these dents for too long." Bumblebee mumbled with a small smile as he settled himself and brought a servo up to rest on the other arms crossing his chassis.

He heard the slight swoosh of Prowl flapping one of his wings slightly. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll probably join you and drop in the back-log of signed reports I've had for Ratchet. I suppose I can stop avoiding him now."

"Better duck when ya go in, you know how he holds grudges and throws wrenches." Jazz laughed softly.

"Quite true." Prowl agreed as his optics began to dim and a small, very satisfied smile spread over his faceplate.

Bumblebee still got a thrill, even after all they'd done together that day, seeing such an unguarded display of emotions from the publicly stoic tactician.

They said nothing more as their ventilations calmed and, one by one, optics offlined and they slid into stasis in the comfort of each others presence.


	8. Chapter 8

When Bumblebee next onlined, he did not feel nearly as comfortable as he had when he'd gone into recharge. He let out a low groan as sensors lit up all over his frame… the most insistent ones firing off from between his legs.

He was also not the first to awaken, as he discovered when Prowl's soft voice met his audio before he'd even onlined his optics.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmmmph… not sure… gimmie a sec to calibrate." he croaked back quietly, optics powering up slowly given his low energy reserves after his long and… exceptionally busy previous joor.

He lay still on the berth, letting his systems boot up, taking stock of all his new aches and pains.

Apart from rather sensitive lip-plates given all the passionate use they'd seen after a long time of not seeing it… all the cables in his back, some in his legs and _definitely_ the ones in his wrists hurt. His spike felt over-warm in a not so pleasant way, and his _valve_ … Primus, it felt like it was on _fire_.

Bumblebee couldn't help another soft grunt of pain as he shifted his stiff shoulders slightly.

"What's the verdict?" Prowl asked gently, the servo he had laying over Bumblebee's chassis coming up to brush his thumb over one of Bumblebee's cheek-plates.

Bumblebee turned into the touch with a slight smile and a wince at his neck cables. "Definitely going to need that visit to Ratchet… and probably some more of that gel stuff before-hand."

"Mmmm. I'm sorry… I think we did get a bit too carried away yesterday… I forgot what it's like when you haven't been so active for longer spans of time."

Bumblebee merely hummed, his lip plates quirking as the tactician's white digits continued to stroke his helm and faceplates. He wasn't at all offended by Prowl's assumption that he had been inactive in that way for so long… it was true, after all, because self-servicing didn't really count compared to all the things they'd done inside of a single joor. He couldn't help but be amused by the Prowlish formality with which it was said though, he found it so endearing.

"Me too… and I didn't exactly hold myself back, did I?" the spy admitted sheepishly, a pleased look in his optics none-the-less.

Prowl nuzzled his helm against the minibots at the yellow mech's acceptance of his apology.

"Stay still, I'll apply some more gel for you, so at least you'll be able to walk to med bay." the tactician said gently, shifting his weight carefully and getting up without disturbing the other two frames on the berth at all.

Bumblebee noticed his door wings twitch sharply and his small wince as he moved though. His smile only widened. "Looks like even a seasoned mech like yourself could use some of that stuff." Bumblebee sang softly from the berth with great relish. He knew part of Prowl's wincing was his doing, and the tactician wasn't the first… easily the best, but Ignitor had been sore more than once thanks to Bumblebee blowing his circuits (the ungrateful fragger, he thought briefly). He wondered if Jazz would suffer any post over-'faced symptoms… but then the Porsche was much more active than Prowl, seeing to neglected mechs in between Prowl's 'heats'.

"Yes, I probably will, but that's all I'll need. Once Ratchet has you I don't doubt he'll want to apply the stronger stuff." Prowl said simply as he sat on the edge of the berth.

"W-what?" Bumblebee yelped out softly as the Datsun opened his panel, making him wince slightly as cool air hit his uncomfortably over-heated circuitry.

Prowl had a coy smirk on his features as he coated a finger in the gel expertly.

"The first time Jazz and I interfaced after waking up on earth… well, you can imagine from yesterday how energetic we would have been… I'm afraid neither of us really thought about the time-lapse or it's effects. We both ended up in med bay and Ratchet had to stick his servos in our ports and apply some very strong sensor suppressant. Then he gave us a wonderful lecture, and I promise you it's not one I'de wish to hear again."

Bumblebee let out a small groan at the thought of a Ratchet lecture (something he usually managed to avoid, being one of the few mechs to do so), then he hissed sharply as Prowl gently pressed the gel covered digit into his burning port.

The discomfort was at least four times as bad as the previous evening when Jazz had applied it, but to his credit Prowl was exceptionally gentle, and after a few stabs of hot pain, the cooling gel began to work. It settled the unbearable heat, but the ache remained this time, and Bumblebee understood the necessity for whatever it was Ratchet had.

He still didn't feel any better about going to ask the medic for it. _Primus_ if his behaviour from an orn ago was anything to go by, the CMO was going to have an absolute field day with him, and probably _then_ lecture him. At least he had to keep it private. Bumblebee didn't want to imagine the looks he'd get if others on the Ark knew he'd been 'faced so much it hurt worse than a hangover, he'd never hear the end of it. That is, once everyone managed to get their processors around the fact he actually 'faced anyone.

And he wasn't even going to contemplate (although it made him smile to think about) how many processors would be stalled if word got out that it was none other than the second and third in command fragging him.

"Mmmmm… now there's a sight ta online to." Jazz slurred happily as his optics powered up next to Bumblebee and he appraised Prowl's position with his finger in the minibot's valve.

Bumblebee smiled and winced at the saboteur as Prowl withdrew his digit and went to coat it with more gel as he sat himself on the edge of the berth.

"How are you feeling?" Bumblebee asked the Porsche, engine purring contentedly as the heat in his port abated and the saboteur stroked the yellow plating under his hand idly.

"Pretty pit slaggin' good with you two in mah berth." Jazz grinned cheekily from audio to audio.

"Not sore then?" Bumblebee sighed, wincing again as he made to sit himself up and test just how kinked his cables were.

"Nope. Equipment's runnin a bit hotter than it should, but that'll go in a few cycles. I knew Prowler would be a bit tender, but ah wasn't so sure about you. Fairin' OK?"

"Not really. Ratchet's going to either throw a fit or laugh his aft off at me… and I sincerely hope I don't meet Wheeljack this morning." Bumblebee mumbled sheepishly before groaning and slumping up against the wall at the head of the gel lined, metallo-mesh covered berth.

Jazz chuckled, then looked over at Prowl as the black and white didn't quite stifle a small grunt of pain.

The tactician had opened his interface panel, and discomfort was very evident on his normally well schooled faceplates as he rubbed the cooling gel around his own port walls.

Bumblebee lifted his arms and twisted his servos slowly and gently, rubbing his wrist joints a little to regain some movement without achy pangs.

He went to rotate his shoulders as well, but ended up wincing violently and uttering a small 'ow'.

"C'mere Bee. Won't do ya much good if ya walk down the halls twitchin' like you're glitched." Jazz said softly, and Bumblebee complied, letting the Porsche shift him around so he could start massaging the tension out of his cables and joints through gaps in his armour.

He hummed and let his helm fall forward onto his chest plate as the skilled black digits put pressure on the mechanisms that had stiffened and misaligned slightly, helping to promote more energon flow to the areas to heat and re-adjust everything.

"That better?" Jazz asked brightly, rubbing little circles where he had room to inside the yellow plating before moving to work a little on the lower cables of Bumblebee's neck, nicely exposed to him with the minibot's helm tilted forward.

Bumblebee could only form a contented hum in response as Jazz rubbed his lower neck near the centre line of his back, close to the upper motor-cable pulley mechanism that he had felt himself straining and kinking yester-joor when he'd made himself overload in the cuffs the Twins had locked him in.

The memory made the corner of his lip-plate curl upwards. That one overload was the cause of most of his bodily aches, but as he sat and relished Jazz's soothing touch, he further devised his revenge for the Twins. He'd have to remind them why he was a special ops agent, and why it was a bad idea to mess with spec-ops agents. He knew they never pulled any slag on Jazz or Mirage at least. They only ever usually got away with doing stuff to him because he wasn't vindictive and didn't generally buy into prank wars.

But this time they had crossed a line… not one Bumblebee was terribly annoyed about them crossing, but all the same it was going to be fun messing with them.

"We had better get moving. I have a lot of back-log work to get through after we pay Ratchet a visit."

Bumblebee nodded before he turned around and gave Jazz an affectionate peck on the cheek-arch, which earned him a big grin from the saboteur.

"Gonna be a while before I get over how good that feels." Jazz murmured, and Prowl threw him an amused smile as Bumblebee followed him into Jazz's little-used wash-racks.

It wasn't long before Jazz actually joined them, and they quickly helped each other get scuff marks and paint scratches off each other again, although they had managed to do less surface damage to each other before recharge given they had all expended their intense energy earlier.

"You're coming with us?" Bumblebee asked curiously as Jazz looked ready to follow them.

"Yeah, figure you guys need some back-up to face the Hatchet. Moral support, and mah shift doesn't start for another cycle." Jazz answered cheerily.

"That's not a bad idea. I just have to swing by my office and collect the reports to give Ratchet." Prowl said with a small smile.

Bumblebee's joints were still sore and stiff, but the more he moved (and Jazz kept stifling his sniggers as Bumblebee winced down the hall at his side), the easier it became.

He and Jazz stood in the corridor while Prowl ducked into his office to retrieve the necessary data pads.

Bumblebee was in the middle of a discussion with the saboteur about music and his sudden and curious interest in it… but he stopped mid-sentence with an ungainly noise somewhere in the back of his vocaliser.

Jazz gave him a funny look before noticing the beetle's attention was on who had just entered their corridor. The Porsche's faceplate split into a wide, cheeky grin as Wheeljack walked towards them, concentrating on a data pad.

"Oh, hey there 'Jack! How's it hangin'?" Jazz said merrily while Bumblebee pretended to seem distracted, looking amusingly as if he wanted to do a Mirage and disappear into thin-air.

Wheeljack started… or at least made a very good impression of surprise, apparently having been absorbed in his data-pad.

The moment his optics landed on Bumblebee, he did the same as the spy and looked anywhere but at his small yellow friend.

Jazz looked between them with clear amusement as both their faceplates heated to a dull red.

"Uh, hi Jazz… Bee… sorry I can't stay to chat, lot's of work to do today…" Wheeljack murmured as his helm panels flashed bright peach in his embarrassment and he continued on down the corridor.

Bumblebee threw Jazz a glare and the saboteur merely smirked.

When the chief engineer reached the other end of the corner, relaxing slightly, Jazz's voice rang out again.

"Oh, hey Wheeljack, by the way…"

The Lancia turned automatically with a wary but nonetheless curious look.

Jazz's wicked grin widened substantially as he fought to keep his vocaliser straight…

The Porsche threw a thumb in Bumblebee's direction and, quite casually, he called out to the stunned Inventor…

"I hit that."

Bumblebee and Wheeljack both looked at Jazz as if he was mad… then automatically shared a glance down the hall.

Neither could help themselves… despite their awkward embarrassment, they burst out laughing while Jazz smiled indulgently.

"What's so funny?" a bemused looking Prowl asked, emerging from his office to the strange scene. The tactician looking cluelessly between them only served to refresh the three mech's giggles, and he frowned slightly as Wheeljack's only response was to wave a servo and disappear around the corner out of sight.

They could hear him fighting to stifle his laughter all the way down the adjoining corridor.

"Ah, don't worry Prowler… just clearing' the air between Bee n 'Jack. Human expression, don't think ya'd know it."

"Oh? Try me." Prowl said lightly as they made their way once more towards the med-bay.

"Well, I pointed to Bee and told Wheel jack 'I hit that'." Jazz said nonchalantly while Bumblebee snorted out a fresh wave of staticy, half suppressed giggles.

"I see." was Prowl's only reply, and neither Jazz nor Bumblebee could tell if he knew or cared what it meant.

"…So?" Jazz prodded impishly.

"So what?" Prowl asked innocently, absently checking all the data pads he was carrying were in order.

"You don't know what it means do you?" Bumblebee asked slyly, sharing a wide grin with the Porsche beside him.

"I don't quite understand how the term acquired it's meaning, but I know well enough to believe it would have been more amusing had you said it to Prime."

There was a klik of silence between the three before Jazz and Bumblebee erupted into laughter as they turned into the corridor towards the med-bay.

They only got louder as they approached the doors and none-other than their illustrious leader exited, throwing the three a curious, if not slightly confused look.

Prowl merely failed to completely suppress a grin as he ignored his companions and formally addressed the Prime.

"I have the completed reports for you regarding the Decepticon raid yesterday Prime. When is the most convenient time for me to drop them into your office?"

"Oh… anytime you're able to within the next two cycles or so, thankyou Prowl. I was meaning to find you today for a small discussion anyway, so come when you're free." The large red and blue mech replied.

Prowl nodded as Jazz and Bumblebee managed to control themselves and give a nod of respectful recognition to their leader, who glanced at them with a bemused expression before turning to continue on his way.

Jazz and Bumblebee didn't dare enter the medbay until they had themselves completely under control, but as Optimus was about to round the corner, Prowl called out to him, much to all of their surprise.

"By the way sir."

Prime turned with obvious curiosity, helm canted slightly to the side at the undisguised look of rare mischief on the tactician's faceplates.

The SIC pointed a thumb in Bumblebee's direction and stated calmly, "I believe I hit that."

Jazz and Bumblebee had absolutely no hope of controlling themselves this time, and even Prowl had to fight extra hard to keep a straight face… if a massive goofy grin was really a straight face for him.

Optimus' orbital ridges were both raised high, and he was torn between shaking his head or laughing along with them. But then it wasn't often his SIC dropped that professional mask, let alone made a less than dry or witty joke. The red and blue mech allowed himself both a deep chuckle and a shake of his head as he turned, waving his hand and parting with "I'm glad my advice helped then."

"It did indeed." Prowl chuckled softly as his Leader and friend disappeared around the corner.

Prowl turned back to his two companions, one of his own orbital ridges raised as they doubled over, leaning on each other as their vocalisers began to seize from their laughter.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that funny."

"…was… from you… was." Bumblebee gasped, his intakes wheezing as he struggled to regain control.

"And what the _frag_ is so funny out here?"

Bumblebee and Jazz looked up momentarily before they succumbed to more giggling fits as Ratchet stood in the med-bay doorway, eyeing them all suspiciously. His optics fell on Prowl, giving him an expectant look and crossing his arms over his windshield.

"As strange as it may seem, I'm afraid it's my fault." Prowl sighed, not at all looking apologetic.

"Oh? And what exactly did you do?" Ratchet growled, but his tone seemed more curious than gruff.

"Prowler… told Prime… he*giggle*… he hit that!" Jazz managed to choke out whilst pointing to Bumblebee, who was incoherent with strangled laughter now.

"Oh Primus, don't tell me they're rubbing off on you after one joor?" Ratchet said, rolling his helm to the side and leaning onto one leg.

"I don't think it's even been that long." Prowl admitted, remembering that it had been well into the on cycle last joor by the time he'd confronted Bumblebee and Jazz and they had all come to a rather wonderful affirmation of feelings for one another.

"Alright you two, get over it and get your afts in here, I'm guessing you didn't all come for a social visit. Certainly not judging by the dents in Bumblebee's chassis." The medic said slyly.

Bumblebee immediately sobered, holding his abdominal plating as he straightened. He winced a little as he continued to break out in soft chuckles. The venting exertion of his laughter had unfortunately not helped his sore port or cables much.

"Well, not these two, but ah figured I'd tag along as moral support. I'm right as rain, as the humans say." Jazz quipped, restraining his giggles better than the minibot, though a huge grin was plastered on his face under his over-bright visor.

Ratchet shook his head as he walked back into the med-bay, beckoning for them to follow.

"I brought you a back-log of signed reports for your files Ratchet, I missed you yesterday when I picked them up. And I am sorry for avoiding you, I know it was immature of me-"

"Ah save it Prowl. I was never worried about late reports. Just tell me none of you got sparked and I'll be happy." Ratchet grunted.

Prowl made an odd staticy crackle in the back of his throat. "Of course we're not sparked, we're not bonded." He replied rather quietly, voice neutral, and Ratchet actually grinned, though non of them saw it. He did so _love_ to make Prowl feel awkward, and the tactician definitely deserved it after the last orn.

"I don't know Prowler, all the energy flyin' around yesterday, it mighta been a close thing anyway." Jazz teased impishly.

Prowl threw him a glare that only made the saboteur's grin wider.

"Uh, yea… speaking of that energy flying around thing, I need some help Ratchet." Bumblebee muttered, no longer giggling, his smile now sheepish and faceplates a dull red.

Ratchet rounded on the minibot with a knowing smirk and Prowl avoided the medic's gaze by heading straight for the CMO's office to drop off the data-pads.

"Oh? Well what seems to be the problem? Other than the obvious sore valve."

Bumblebee blanched and Ratchet's wicked look only got worse.

"Dare I ask how you knew about that?" the spy muttered.

"I'm not CMO for no reason Bumblebee, and the way you're walking is pretty tell tale. Jazz, I'm disappointed in you, I thought you and Prowl had learnt your lesson. Run out of that salve already have you?" Ratchet asked coyly as he pointed Bumblebee over to a berth behind a screen at the far end of the room.

"Nah Ratch-man, got heaps left and already used it. I'm afraid we gave poor Bee quite a welcome to the relationship last joor though." Jazz said, grin now as sheepish as Bumblebee's had been.

"Yea, I noticed." Ratchet deadpanned, tilting his head in an exasperated gesture again as he walked over to the berth where Bumblebee had lain down.

"Alright, If I'm gonna know what strength of pain relief you need, you're going to have to give me an approximation of just how active you got yesterday." Ratchet said, and while he was being completely professional, he had a hard time suppressing another smirk at the clear discomfort on Bumblebee's faceplates.

"Uh… I don't know… um, well… kinda… it just aches. Jazz gave me some of that gel, but he said I'd need whatever you gave them when they came out of stasis after the Ark crashed." Bumblebee muttered as Ratchet corrected his position so that the minibot's knees hung over the end of the berth and his legs were spread.

" _Primus_ they did give you a workout then… better take a look, make sure you didn't tear anything, although you'd likely not have been laughing so hard before… more or less crying probably… all the same, you minibots seem to handle pain better than a lot of the big sparklings I get in here sometimes." Ratchet said as he went to fetch a few tools and the sensor numbing agent from a cabinet.

He returned and opened Bumblebee's panel, kneeling down and inserting a speculum.

Bumblebee wasn't at all bothered by Ratchet's inspection, the CMO had performed full point health checks on all Ark members at least twice since the minibot had served on the ship, so it was nothing the red and white mech hadn't seen before, and Ratchet _was,_ Bumblebee reminded himself _,_ a professional after all.

"Primus! I'm going to have to talk to those two about limits, I mean I know Prowl gets pretty riled up when it's been a while, but at least Jazz should've known better. Fraggin' younglings the lot of you, I swear…" Ratchet griped as he shone a light into the minibot's port and noted the highly polished sheen of over-abraised valve walls.

At this Bumblebee did end up blushing furiously.

"Sorry… guess we got carried away." Bumblebee couldn't help grinning as he muttered his reply.

"yea well, just don't make it a habit. You probably won't though, the more active you are the more you adjust, _thankfully._ I'd be doing this more often if that weren't the case."

"The twins would probably be here more often than in their own quarters if that were the case." Jazz quipped, poking his head around the screen with a mischievous grin.

He ducked an astrosecond later as Ratchet threw a spare wrench blindly over his shoulder with remarkable accuracy. "I hate to agree with you there Jazz, but I do agree with you. Now stay the frag back." He grumbled.

"Aaaaw, come on Ratch-man, ain't like it's anything I haven't seen before." the saboteur countered slyly, head poking around once more, throwing Bumblebee an obvious and appreciative look.

Bumblebee shook his helm and threw back a coy smile. He would have angled his hips to give Jazz a better look, but he didn't want to get in trouble from Ratchet. The red and white medic seemed to have ascertained that he had no serious damage to his valve and was coating a finger in his potent sensor numbing salve.

Prowl came out of Ratchet's office and went to stand by Jazz, giving him a very… well… Prowlish look. The Porsche just grinned innocently right back before returning his gaze to Ratchet and Bumblebee.

The minibot flinched as the CMO inserted the cold feeling digit into his port. He bit back a yelp as his sore sensors throbbed at the contact despite Prowl's earlier gel application.

The yellow mech bit his bottom lip and shifted a little uncomfortably on the berth. His optics shot up and caught Prowl staring. He put on his biggest coy smile and ran his glossa teasingly along his top lip-plate.

He nearly laughed as both SIC and TIC stiffened visibly at his display. Prowl's door wings were arched high and nearly vibrating from the spectacle of watching Ratchet with his finger in the minibot, even if the medic's movements were nothing but clinical.

"Quit that teasing or I'll put a cap on your valve so you can't use it for an orn." Ratchet grumbled at Bumblebee, who actually looked somewhat horrified at that prospect.

As did Prowl.

Jazz simply snorted, then yelped as a clank resounded through the medbay. Ratchet's second blind throw had hit it's mark on the top of his helm.

After that the Porsche and Datsun retreated to the safety of the other side of the screen while Ratchet finished applying a generous amount of his gel to Bumblebee's port walls.

The effect was nearly instantaneous, and Bumblebee let out a relieved cycle of air as the hot ache became a blissfully numb buzz.

"That'll last long enough for the sensors to de-polarise to a more bearable level. Still might feel a little sore, but if it gets too much the stuff Jazz has should be adequate to relieve you. If it isn't, come straight back here. Now… to sort out those dents." The medic said in his crisp bedside voice, closing the minibot's interface panel and getting him to move back so his frame was completely on the berth.

"Thanks Ratchet, you're a real lifesaver." Bumblebee chirped, thinking he heard Jazz snicker something about a 'love-life saver' . The medic merely groaned softly.

"Yea, like I haven't heard that one before. If only I had a credit for every time…" The medic grumbled as he cleaned off his gel smeared hand before selecting some de-denting and plating smoothing tools.

"You'd probably be almost as rich as Mirage." Jazz piped up.

Ratchet smirked at that. "Almost? I didn't think he was still so loaded. Surely Smokescreen's relieved him of a few thousand credits with his game nights over the last few solar cycles?" The medic said wryly as the saboteur gingerly poked his head around the screen again.

"He watches more than he plays, and he's not bad when he does join in you know." Bumblebee said reasonably as Ratchet began pounding a few of the deeper dents out of his chassis.

"This your handiwork?" the red and white changed the subject suddenly, glaring at Jazz as he indicated the array of dents on the yellow mech's hood.

"Actually Ratchet that was from training… I was sparring a bit yesterday." Bumblebee lied flawlessly. He was becoming a little uncomfortable with the amount of white lies he was telling lately, but he really didn't want the Twins to have their heads welded to their afts for something he'd found highly enjoyable despite the plating damage he'd received.

"Yea, with me… so they _were_ my fault, but not for the reason yer thinking'" Jazz snickered, effortlessly collaborating with his subordinate.

"Hmph. So that bite mark on his horn? What kinda contact combat were you practising exactly?" Ratchet asked with an orbital brow raised coolly.

"Ah… yea, that _was_ made how ya think it was…" Jazz said sheepishly, and Ratchet merely made a noise of exasperation, shaking his head.

"And dare I even inquire about the high-grade incident with the Twins I've been hearing about since yesterday?" Ratchet grumbled with a scrutinising look down at his patient as he knocked out a few chassis dents.

"Not much to it really." Bumblebee shrugged, then winced, forgetting about his stiff cables.

"You sure you were out for the count when Bluestreak came along? Or still not ready to admit how handy those voyeur skills of yours are? Might explain why you were so frisky with these two, I hear Twins plus Bluestreak plus high-grade usually equals quite a show. Taking notes could be useful."

Ratchet's evil smirk only got bigger the redder Bumblebee's faceplate got.

 _If only you knew I was the one making the show with them_ Bumblebee thought to himself, while out loud he said "No, Ratchet, I didn't see anything. You KNOW how much of a lightweight I am, when I overcharge, it's a very short step to recharge."

Ratchet seemed almost disappointed. "Ah well. I was surprised they even went to the trouble of trying to cheer you up though, but maybe there's a hope for their social conscience after-all. Sunstreaker even considering the feelings of a minibot is a big step for him."

"Well it's not that weird considering he saw me go nuts on Frenzy and Rumb- oh _slag_." Bumblebee stopped mid sentence, optics widening, as Ratchet's expression became one of steely triumph.

"aHA. I KNEW there was more to it than you let on. You took on those two cassette fraggers didn't you?"

Bumblebee felt like slapping a servo over his own faceplate. Him and his big mouth!

"OK, yea I did… I was mad at Prowl and Rumble was talking about the whole virus shot deal… and Sunstreaker was kinda impressed when I let them have it. I'm only telling you 'cause you know I didn't just do it in some fit of insanity, you know about Prowl. _Please_ don't say anything to anyone else."

Bumblebee used his best pleading optics on Ratchet. The medic liked to think he was immune to such looks by now, but a part of him could never quite deny youngling optic'd gazes… if asked he'd blame protective programming protocols.

"Yea, yea, secret's safe with me. What _I_ wanna know is what you did to make Prowl pay for the grief he caused you."

"Oh, well, now that's between him, me and Jazz. Let's just say torture was the only appropriate course of action." Bumblebee said pleasantly.

Ratchet huffed through his vents. "This is one of those times I wish I had the authority to order you to give me details."

"That's not particularly professional of you Ratchet." Prowl said lightly from somewhere on the other side of the screen.

"Don't you slagging talk to me about professional behaviour, sir hide-and-seek!" Ratchet yelled, tossing another wrench over the screen (Primus only knew where he was pulling them from) and there was a yelp as Prowl was forced to dodge the falling tool.

"Yea seriously though Ratch-man, processor out of the gutter, please!" Jazz taunted, and Ratchet merely growled in response.

"Tell me those two aren't going to follow you around being this obnoxious on a regular basis now?" He muttered down at his patient as he stuck a strange device over the dented helm horn and switched it on.

Bumblebee was rendered slightly dizzy for a moment as a vacuum formed around the sensory appendage, simultaneously heating it up. When the metal was softened, it pinged out into it's original shape and Ratchet turned off the vacuum and removed the tube like tool. Bumblebee decided he didn't want to let anyone dent his horns again, that thing felt weird.

"Well that's up to them. They aren't like that all the time. Certainly not in berth anyway." Bumblebee uttered lowly, a mischievous grin spreading over his faceplate.

"I'm sure they're glad to hear you think so. Now sit up so I can work the kinks out of your cables."

Ratchet said dryly.

Bumblebee sat up on the berth and turned his back to Ratchet, who began undoing the anchors on his back-plate armour.

"Primus, I'm not sure I wanna know how you did this or not…" Ratchet mumbled bemusedly as he exposed most of the pulley cables in Bumblebee's upper chassis.

"Like Jazz said, processor out of the gutter, that would be from training." Bumblebee chimed back at him.

"Yea… I'm sure some of it is. Hold still."

Ratchet transformed one of his red digits into a small blowtorch device and began heating sections of muscle cable before rubbing them smooth with his other hand.

The relief as he un-kinked and de-stressed the lines was wonderful, and Bumblebee found his engine purring in response.

The sound made Jazz pop his head around the screen again despite the danger, but it seemed Ratchet wasn't so bothered about him coming over now, so he did, smiling at the soft hum Bumblebee had started emitting without realising it.

"Ya gotta teach me that trick Ratch', I wanna make him do that." the saboteur said cheerily.

Bumblebee was too content and relaxed to pay Jazz's remark any mind. Although if Jazz was willing to do this for him, he probably wouldn't object.

Ratchet merely twitched his helm in an imitation of a human eye roll and finished up with the last of the cables before he began to put Bumblebee back together.

Bumblebee only noticed he had drawn attention when he looked up to see Prowl's helm peering around the screen, the tactician looking at him with keen attention. He felt his faceplate flush with a little heat, but Prowl merely smiled.

"There, that should do it. And I don't wanna see that little yellow aft in here for at least another orn, got it?" Ratchet grumbled. Bumblebee merely flashed him a big smile and said "Sure thing Ratchet, you're a legend."

"Puh. I hope not, legendary mechs tend to be offline mechs." Ratchet retorted, but he had a softer expression than before… until he snapped his head to glare at Prowl.

"Now _you_ , I don't care how fine you think you are, I'm checking you over. Here, sit, now." Ratchet commanded of the SIC, who's wings visibly drooped as he found himself the target of the medic.

However, wishing to be compliant in order to make it up to Ratchet, he did as told without argument and made to lay on the berth… but the CMO hustled him onto the end of it with his knees over the edge, much to his embarrassment.

Even though all mechs present had seen Prowl's interfacing equipment, he couldn't stop the flush of heat through his faceplates and he deliberately avoided all optic contact as Ratchet retracted his panel.

The medic slipped a clean speculum into the Datsun's valve, making him wince slightly, and shone his torch.

"Hmmm, a little over-abraised… just gonna check the sensor polarisation." The medic mumbled, picking up a thin, wand-like object and sliding it very carefully into the SIC's port. Prowl was tense and feeling distinctly awkward as the device was pressed to his valve wall and slowly moved around the circumference, passing over all the sensors, pinging them very slightly, which felt more uncomfortable than pleasant.

"Hmmm, the charge is still a bit high. Is the weaker gel working alright for you or do you need something stronger?" Ratchet asked, completely professional now. The only reason he was leaving the decision up to Prowl and not just forcing the same stuff into him that he'd used on Bumblebee, was because this was one of the few things Ratchet knew Prowl would be totally honest about. If there was one thing the CMO was certain of, it was that Prowl did not tolerate any valve discomfort at all well and it would prevent him from getting any work done… which was not an option to the tactician.

"No, the gel did the trick this morning, and I was feeling fine until you started poking around in there." Prowl said somewhat mulishly.

Ratchet merely chuckled and patted Prowl's knee. "Alright, I get the point. Sit up then, and I'll ease the tension in those door hinges, ya ungrateful sparkling." he growled, taking all his implements out of the Datsun and closing his panels.

Prowl sat stiff backed when he pushed himself up and presented his back plates to the medic.

Ratchet changed out one of his digits for the same little blow-torch he'd eased Bumblebee's cables with and started heating the joints of the Datsun's door-wings. With the other hand, he kept the door forward and still so he could reach the hinges. He prodded the sensory appendage gently with his fingers, checking the reflex signal strength with his own delicate palm sensors.

"Hmmm, good, I see you and Jazz remembered what I told you about dispersing any charge, the polarisation is good and normal in your sensory array this time." Ratchet murmured approvingly.

"What advice did he give you?" Bumblebee asked Jazz, puzzled. He didn't remember either of them talking about having to follow any of Ratchet's orders.

Jazz crossed his arms and leant his weight on one leg, a crooked grin on his faceplate. "Ah well, last time me n Prowler got to spend quality time together, I kinda forgot to play with his wings as much as I usually do… turns out they kinda catch charge and hold it after overloads, and if the charge isn't worked out and stays there for, say, a recharge cycle… well, I don't think ah'v ever heard or will ever hear Prowl swear that much again." Jazz explained quietly.

Bumblebee turned wide optics on Prowl, trying to imagine him cursing more than 5 times in a sentence… it was a difficult scenario to conjure. Prowl merely offered him a sheepish smile as he slumped more and more in his seat on the berth. It seemed warmed, un-stiffened cables had an effect not many bots could fight, and Ratchet smirked knowingly as his patient basically melted into relaxation beneath his servos.

Prowl nearly seemed disappointed when Ratchet declared that he was done, but he slid obediently off the berth.

"Now, I don't know what the slag you two did to tear the rim of Bumblebee's port, but do it again and I will replace your spikes with human garden hoses, do I make myself clear?" Ratchet said, fixing the two black and white mechs with a piercing glare.

"Crystal." Both said with completely serious faces while Bumblebee tried to hold back an embarrassed smile.

"Good, now all of you get the frag out of my medbay, I have reports to file." he grumped, dumping his used tools in a sterilising soak before washing his servos and heading for his office.

* * *

It was two joors before Bumblebee ended up crossing paths with the Twins. He was in the rec room on a refuel break after a lengthy patrol with Gears (who upon return had headed straight for medbay with all his regular frame gripes), and Jazz had just gone to get some energon for them both when the twins walked in.

Bumblebee was careful to appear oblivious to their entry. It didn't take them long to head for the corner table he was sat at.

"Heeeey, how's it going Bee?" Sideswipe greeted him jovially with the hint of a smirk, settling down in a seat with his back plates to the rest of the room. Sunstreaker slid into the chair next to his brother, likewise facing away from the room at large. Neither of them had even noticed Jazz, who slid one of the two cubes he'd filled into subspace and smoothly placed himself at the table next to theirs where Smokescreen and Bluestreak were having a rather involved debate over shoulder mounted weaponry.

"Haven't seen you in a while… you haven't been avoiding us, have you?" Sunstreaker said smoothly, his eyes smouldering with unsuppressed mischief.

Bumblebee smiled, his expression bright, if not a good measure puzzled. "Hey guys. No, I haven't been avoiding you, why would I do that?" he said in all innocence.

Sideswipe's smirk merely became more pronounced. "Oh, I dunno… might've been 'cause of what happened to you the last time we saw each other."

Bumblebee's confusion only seemed to deepen, but he remained politely cheery anyway.

"Frankly I'm tempted to repeat the performance, but this time we'd prefer to hang around." Sunstreaker purred, voice low and optics deepening in colour.

"Uuh… performance? What are you guys talking about?" Bumblebee asked a little awkwardly, careful to still sound completely clueless.

Sideswipe's smirk slipped ever so slightly and he flickered an almost imperceptible glance to his golden brother. "C'mon Bee quit fooling around… look we're sorry we kinda forgot, it was the Decepticon raid, it distracted us-"

"I'm sure the extra time wasn't exactly unpleasant anyway." Sunstreaker smirked, but there was a hint of unease to his cocky statement.

Bumblebee let the beginning of a frown taint his features. "Guys… I really don't know what you're on about, what did you forget? What extra time was I doing what?"

The twins shared a blatant, unsettled look of shock.

Bumblebee used their break in focus to sneak a glance at Jazz. He could see the saboteur was listening in and grinning widely beneath his visor as he pretended to pay attention to Bluestreak.

The 3IC's expression nearly broke Bumblebee's carefully controlled façade, but he managed to suppress a grin of his own.

The twins were frowning slightly and clearly having a frantic exchange across their unique bond. Their optics turned warily back to Bumblebee's.

"So… you don't remember overloading us both?" Sideswipe mumbled seriously.

Bumblebee widened his optics and mouthed wordlessly a few times before he let out a choke of static and exclaimed in a forced hush "No!"

"And you don't remember us cuffing you to a berth in our quarters and sticking a vibrator in your port and leaving you there for over a cycle?" Sunstreaker said completely flat and so quietly even Jazz's tuned up audios couldn't catch every word clearly.

Bumblebee sputtered indignantly and made an effort to reign himself in before saying in a strained voice, "This isn't funny guys! Seriously, quit it! If this is some sort of prank it's not funny!"

Both of the twins now looked genuinely concerned, and it was taking all of Bumblebee's self control and training experience not to burst out laughing.

"Did you get hit on the cranial unit lately Bumblebee?" Sideswipe asked cautiously.

"You didn't get a tune up from the Hatchet while he was mad did you?" Sunstreaker asked seriously.

"No and _No_ , I'm perfectly fine! If you ask me, it's you two who need your processors checked!" Bumblebee said, a little irritated, crossing his arms over his chassis and sizing up the two toughliners warily, as if afraid they were going to jump him and infect him with some kind of virus.

The minibot made obvious glances towards Jazz now, and taking his silent cue as the Twins shared more frantic silent communications over their bond, the Porsche muttered something to Bluestreak before getting up and coming to stand behind the Lamborghini brothers.

"Hey mechs, what's happenin'?"

Both twins jumped visibly and scrambled to their pedes at Jazz's appearance.

"It wasn't us!"

"We swear we didn't break him!"

"Honest!"

"If we did it was totally an accident."

"Woah, guys, slow down, what on Cybertron are ya talkin about?" Jazz interrupted their slightly panicked outbursts.

Both Twins pointed at Bumblebee and threw worried looks at him. Bumblebee merely watched them both with an expression that said he very much doubted their sanity.

When Jazz also gazed at them non-plussed, they looked to one another and seemingly gulped.

"Blue said you got him out of our room." Sideswipe muttered, seemingly feeling that would be an adequate explanation.

"He says he doesn't remember any of it." Sunstreaker added awkwardly, optics flickering between the beetle and the blank faced Porsche.

"Remember any o' what? N' why would I have to get him outta your room?" Jazz replied blankly, a slight frown marring his features.

The Twins optics widened and they seemed to be truly panicking now, but a flicker of suspicion crossed their optics.

"Hey Blue, you said you went to fetch Jazz 'cause Bee asked you to, when you found him after that last 'Con attack, you remember that right?" Sideswipe called over to the grey Datsun sat at the other table.

Bluestreak looked up, blank faced and innocent and said "…No."

The Twins expressions quickly became horrified, and after glancing between all three puzzled mechs, they ran yelling from the common room, every bot in there turning in alarm to watch the odd spectacle.

The moment they were gone, Jazz and Bumblebee were grinning from audio to audio. Jazz sat himself down and slapped his palm against Bee's when the minibot presented it.

"That was pretty awesome payback." Bluestreak chimed at them from the neighbouring table, door-wings fluttering in amusement.

"That it was. Thanks for playin' along Blue." Jazz said amiably as he un-subspaced the cube of energon he'd filled for Bumblebee.

"How'd you get him in on it?" Bumblebee asked quietly as he accepted the cube.

"Jus' told him to lie if the Twins asked him anythin'" Jazz replied lazily.

Smokescreen gave them a curious look before Bluestreak re-engaged him in their argument, and the rest of the rec. room didn't really seem to care what had caused the Twins outburst, because the two were usually melodramatic as it was, So Jazz and Bumblebee quickly regained the peace of their refuel time.

"I'll have to remember to ask Red for a copy of that to show Prowl." Bumblebee smiled wickedly over his cube before downing a decent swig.

Jazz chuckled. "Careful, he might make their punishment _your_ job from now on."

"Nah, he likes the challenge too much." the minibot replied with an impish grin.

Jazz only laughed a little more and saluted the spy with his energon before downing half his cube.


	9. Chapter 9

Prowl walked into Prime's office after his query ping was answered, and he offered his leader a pleasant smile as he organised his data pads and began sorting them into the appropriate piles on Prime's desk.

The large Blue and red mech seemed to consider him critically for a few moments, taking in his SIC's complete turn around of mood. Saying a good 'facing helped most mechs relax was one thing, but in the tacticians case the change was always so surprisingly drastic, Optimus could never quite wrap his processor around it. He supposed it was because Prowl allowed himself to get so high-strung with work in the first place. But the difference this time given the new factor that was Bumblebee was subtly notable.

Optimus knew his own conduct wasn't that much different though… he was feeling a lot better after last night, and he knew while most of his troops wouldn't pick it, Prowl could always tell when his leader had sought that particular kind of relief, just as Optimus could with him.

"I see you're looking much better now you've had your de-stressing session." The prime commented amiably to his friend, leaning back in his chair with an easy lilt to his posture that he only showed in the company of friends.

The tactician glanced up with keen optics and the corner of his mouth twitched up another notch almost imperceptibly.

"Given how relaxed you are I surmise you're feeling much the same… I shall have to observe carefully to see who is in a similar mood this joor… or limping." Prowl responded with a quiet but mischievous tone.

"Oh, now, that's a bit harsh, It's been a while but I'm not that careless." Optimus rumbled with a laugh. It was true, while he knew who it was Prowl turned to for personal comfort and intimate affection, Prowl didn't know who his own berth partners were. They were not deeply involved emotionally with their leader, but plied him with their affections and attentions without allowing him to protest, and Optimus merely resigned himself to allowing them to make him relax when they deemed it necessary.

"I take it last night's de-stressing session was particularly good. It almost makes me want to know who has the skills to get you to relax that well. Almost." Prowl conceded, his small smile broadening ever so slightly.

The Semi merely laughed again, "Oh, Prowl, if only you knew who I go to for my 'de-stressing'," he sighed heavily with a hint of melodrama, "But I don't want to crash your logic circuits, or Ratchet would have my skid-plate." He added teasingly.

Prowl's door-wings flicked and his face was a serene picture of sincerity as he deadpanned "Well, it's the Twins isn't it?"

His tone was so matter of fact, Optimus actually snapped upright in his chair, optics widening in shock.

"H-how did you know?"

Prowl's cool look suddenly turned to surprised puzzlement.

"…I didn't, I was trying to make a joke."

There was a tense few astroseconds of silence In which Optimus could practically see the cogs in his SIC's head working. When Prowl realised the Prime's shock wasn't an act, the implications of the statement seemed to sink in…

And as if in slow motion, the datsun's optics widened, face freezing in odd, half horrified, half confused look before his optics flickered off and he keeled backwards with a small crash.

It might actually have been funny if Optimus hadn't felt so suddenly shocked and guilty over causing it.

Optimus hastily stood and rounded his desk to kneel at the offline tactician's side. He brought a servo to his faceplate for a moment and drew it down with a low groan.

"Ratchet _is_ going to have my aft… if the Twins don't find out he knows first."

With a resigned sigh, the Prime carefully lifted his SIC's limp black and white form into his arms and headed for the Med-bay.

* * *

"So, are you actually having a Prank war with Sunny and Sides now?" Bluestreak asked conversationally as Bumblebee re-adjusted the sights on his pulse rifle.

They were standing next to each other, alone on the firing range except for Cliffjumper, who had chosen the end cubicle furthest from them. Neither took it as an offence, they knew Cliffjumper well enough to realise he just wanted to concentrate on firing and didn't feel like conversing. Plus he had a newly fixed rifle, courtesy of Wheeljack, and was keen to test it out without distractions.

Equally, Bluestreak and Bumblebee thought it safer they keep their distance from a weapon that Wheeljack had just tweaked to produce a more powerful punch.

"Well, that depends on if they figure out I was messing with them and decide to seek revenge." Bumblebee said with a slight shrug, before he swiftly brought his rifle up and shot at a practice drone as it skittered across the desert from one boulder to the next. He clipped it, but it functioned well enough to hide behind another rock.

"Ah nuts n bolts." Bumblebee muttered, and Bluestreak's wings fluttered slightly as he smiled.

"Oh they'll figure it out… eventually. You better be ready when they do… at least I don't think they'll do that, er, thing to you again… 'cause you got them back for it and they don't like repeating themselves when they prank, they say that's too amateur." the gunner assured him before his rifle whipped up and he let off three shots without even turning his head to the range.

He managed to hit the practice drone dead on and blow it up.

Bumblebee had felt the heat rise to his faceplate when Bluestreak reminded him of what the sharpshooter had walked in on, but his embarrassment was overridden by the sniper's actions and he shook his head in disbelief.

"Show-off" He teased, and Bluestreak merely gave him a half smirk, half grin.

"Hey, I'm not the best for nothing Beeper!" he teased right back. Bumblebee was thankful that Bluestreak was tactful and kind enough to avoid the subject of their awkward encounter.

Bumblebee was very fond of Bluestreak, he was one of his best friends on the Ark, and one of the few to use his old nick-name. Wheeljack had coined it back when he'd beep his horn to announce the arrival of the inventor's new batch of parts. The engineer had used it while they were on the Ark together and Bluestreak had picked it up too.

Bumblebee took another shot at one of the next drones to appear and managed to disable it this time.

"Yea, well this sure isn't my forte. I'm better at sneaking up on the snipers than being one of them." the minibot said cheekily. Bluestreak's wings twitched and he pretended to look affronted.

"Yea, sure… the extraordinary ninja-bee… quieter than a glitch-mouse, nearly as small as one and ten times more adorable looking"

"Hey, I'm not that small!" Bumblebee mock pouted, and Bluestreak merely laughed, firing at another drone as he did, hitting it again even though his rifle shook with his laughter.

"So you don't dispute the adorable part then?" he chuckled slyly.

"Well, I couldn't speak for myself, you'd have to ask other mechs about that." Bumblebee replied coolly, shooting at three drones as they appeared simultaneously and hitting every one this time.

"Adorable but deadly. Well… I reckon that's what _Jazz_ would say anyway." Bluestreak said with a coy edge to his teasing tone.

Bumblebee suddenly felt a little flustered.

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing, nothing… I mean, it's not like he didn't smile when I went to fetch him to, ah, help you out of your little predicament like you asked." Bluestreak said lightly, mischief clear just in the way he held his door-wings high.

OK, _not_ so kind about leaving it alone, Bumblebee revised mentally. "He's my commanding officer, and I knew he wouldn't… take advantage of my situation. Apart from that, he knows how to pick locks better than you." Bumblebee huffed, keeping his eyes on the practice field, hoping the gunner wouldn't notice the soft red flush creeping across his cheek-arch plating.

"Yeah, that's true… but I knew where the keys for those cuffs were. It's just I figured that since you insisted, I better just go along and bring Jazz into it. I'm sure he was totally professional about the whole thing."

Bluestreak said slyly as he threw his minibot companion a suggestive look.

Bumblebee frowned and remained silent. _Primus, I hope he drops it, I mean I only said two joors ago I wanted to keep this whole thing with Jazz and Prowl on the low, and already half the Ark seems close to finding out, and then they_ _'_ _ll all start treating me differently_ _…_ _ugh, as soon as any mech thinks a minibot is up for it, they_ _'_ _re all over them like all we care about is interfacing, I don_ _'_ _t think I could stand that again_ _…_

Bumblebee's silence seemed to sap Bluestreak's playfulness and the smirk left his gentle features.

"Hey, sorry Bee. I didn't wanna make you feel uncomfortable or anything, I was just messing with you. You know, if… what the Twins did crossed a line, I can tell them off for you. I mean I thought it was kinda going a bit far, even for them. I know you're not really… that kinda bot."

"Primus Blue! He's not a sparkling, Bee can fight his own Battles you know, just 'cause he's a minibot doesn't mean he can't hold his own against those fragging twins." Cliffjumper piped up unexpectedly from the other end of the firing range.

Apparently he'd been listening in whilst struggling with the new settings on his gun. It seemed the new mechanics were also causing him quite a lot of frustration.

The red minibot threw Bumblebee a look of solidarity. Bee gave him a crooked half grin in response, and knew that his roommate would have questions to ask about his and Bluestreak's conversation that night in their quarters… which would probably mean no opportunity to sneak a quick bit of alone time with Jazz and Prowl in either of their quarters before recharge.

Bluestreak seemed thoroughly put-down by Cliffjumper's statement, but before he could apologise to Bumblebee, the spy waved a servo at him.

"It's alright Blue, I know you're just teasing. I'm just not… comfortable going into all that kinda stuff casually. The Twins know that too, and I admit what they did was more extreme than most of their other pranks, but I'm not totally mad at them, 'cause they didn't mean to leave me in there that long, that was because of the 'Con attack, and they couldn't help that. Cliff's right though, I can fight my own battles, but I know you're just looking out for me. I appreciate it." the beetle said with a small sincere smile.

Bluestreak's red-tinged faceplate slowly faded back to normal and he gave Bumblebee a sheepish grin. "Sorry… guess I just get carried away with stuff sometimes."

"Yea, I know, you air-helmed sniper." Bumblebee grinned.

"Adorable ninja-spy." Bluestreak retorted with a cheeky grin as he shot out 5 drones with barely a proper glance at where he was aiming.

Bumblebee was trying to work up a response, but it died in his vocaliser as an almighty BOOM shook the firing range.

Bumblebee spun around and refreshed his optics twice before he fully registered that half the firing terrain had been blasted into a shallow crater littered with charred drones, and Cliffjumper had disappeared.

Following the sound of muffled swearing, he and Bluestreak noticed that the red minibot had been thrown back by the counter-force of his own, nearly as big as him rifle.

The two helped drag him and his still intact weapon from where they'd been embedded into the side of the volcano.

But his swearing was apparently in joy rather than annoyance.

"Wooo! That was slaggin' AWESOME! I'm gonna hafta get that recoil adjusted, but FRAG me, I can't wait to meet the 'Cons and tell 'em to socket themselves with this baby!"

Bumblebee and Bluestreak merely shared a half exasperated look with each other as they ushered the heavily dented Cliffjumper towards the Ark and the med-bay despite his protests that he wanted to try it again.

* * *

When Bumblebee and Bluestreak got closer to the medbay dragging Cliffjumper between them, yelling began to reach their audios. This was not un-uncommon thing, and neither were surprised or bothered. The words were muffled until they reached the doors, which whooshed open when Bluestreak swiped the door-pad.

What did surprise them, upon entry, was the identity of the mech being yelled at.

None other than their commander, Optimus Prime, was standing to attention and looking decidedly sheepish in the wake of the CMO's wrath. What really surprised and confused Bumblebee though, was the sight of Prowl lying on his side on a berth, offline, as the red and white mech attached cables to the port at the base of his neck column.

"…would have expected this from the Twins, honestly! Do you have any idea how much of a processor ache he's going to have from this? Most bots around here just find this hilarious, 'cause none of them have any idea how finicky it is to re-boot this slagger and then get him to REST and let his CPU recover, he's going to have a massive processor ache, he always does, and then the glitch tries to work through it and ignore it. And… Oh Primus almighty, what's happened to _him_ now?" Ratchet's tirade turned onto the three newcomers as the minibot and Datsun deposited their heavily dented companion on a berth.

"Wheeljack fixed his rifle and gave it some extra power. He was testing it on the firing range and the recoil dampeners didn't seem to be calibrated properly 'cause it sent him backwards right into the side of the volcano the first time he fired it! You should see the firing range though, there's an awesome crater, but Wheeljack is going to have to make an extra batch of practice drones because all the ones that got caught in the blast were totally slagged, but I have to admit it really was cool-"

Bumblebee nudged Bluestreak with his elbow as the medic's scowl deepened in a warning sign that the gunner seemed oblivious to.

Cliffjumper interjected when Bluestreak paused, to prevent him from prattling any further.

"It's not as bad as it looks, honestly. Just a coupla dents and some scratched paintwork." He attempted to placate the medic, not wanting an irate Ratchet working on him.

"I'll be the judge of that." The medic snapped crisply, but it seemed his temper had calmed somewhat knowing it wasn't life threatening or difficult work the minibot needed.

He bent over Prowl again, grousing as he made sure the connections were solid before turning to his equipment. "I swear this place is just a sparkling day-care some days. Not even our leader can keep the sense to avoid fragging up his officers logic centres."

"I did say I was sorry, it was certainly not intentional." Optimus muttered solemnly, sounding quite thoroughly chastised.

Bumblebee found himself drifting to the berth-side of the tactician, glancing with the faintest look of concern between the black and white Datsun and their Prime.

"Should I ask what caused it Sir?" the minibot asked the Prime with a curious, if not wary expression.

"I'm not sure it would make a whole lot of sense… he may tell you later when he is back online, he could explain it better." Optimus answered calmly, but Bumblebee caught a hint of something in his leader's optics that told him the subject of the crash causing conversation was not for the rest of the Ark's audios.

Bumblebee nodded and looked back down at Prowl. The tactician's faceplates were fairly slack, but there seemed a lingering element of surprise to his features. The minibot was now doubly curious about the cause of his crash, but it would have to wait.

* * *

4 cycles later, Prowl was at the main Teletraan 1 terminal doing simple report data entry. He rubbed a temple distractedly, processor still pinging off bursts of dull pain after his reboot. He didn't even want to try and think about the information that had caused his crash. Optimus had been there to make sure he was alright when Ratchet had brought him back online, but he hadn't been able to say much because Cliffjumper and Bluestreak were there. Apparently, Bumblebee had come in with them, but he'd had to leave for a training session with Jazz before the tactician was revived.

Prowl found it easy to keep Prime's accidental revelation from his processor if he filled it with thoughts of Bumblebee.

But then he felt guilty, because he should be concentrating on his work. Not that report data entry was a difficult task, which was why now seemed the most appropriate time to do it, because if Ratchet caught him trying to do anything more strenuous on his CPU after a crash he'd be put into stasis lock by the CMO for at least 5 cycles.

Prowl sighed through his vents as another dull throb of pain shot through his cortex.

This might be easy work, but it left him too much room for distraction, and while he could normally discipline his processor to focus, the events of last night were just too fresh and wonderful to suppress.

Prowl gave a soft puff through his vents at the memory and his door wings twitched. It was almost as if he could still feel their servos on him. They were doing some close combat practice right now most likely… oh Primus, just the thought of that reminded him of the _other_ side of Bumblebee… the one Jazz had coaxed out to show him… the one who had given his over-stimulated valve a _delicious_ and vigorous 'facing.

Prowl's door wings shuddered this time. Oh he definitely wanted to see _that_ Bumblebee again.

The SIC's tapered white digits flew over the terminal keyboard as he remained alone in the control room, straight backed in his chair. He'd entered about half of his report backlog in the cycle he'd been there, and his happy musings on the events of the previous joor were rudely interrupted by another stab of pain which he endeavoured to ignore.

* * *

Red alert kept a careful optic on his black and white friend from the security centre. He knew all too well how painful it was to glitch, and he sympathised with the Datsun as Prowl rubbed his temple absently again.

Honestly though, of all mechs to cause the door-winger to crash, Red expected it least from their Leader. The red and white Lamborghini shook his helm and swept his optics keenly across his monitor banks, not noting anything out of the ordinary. Well… none of it was unusual to him at least.

He smirked softly to himself, thinking for the thousandth time just how under-appreciated he was by the rest of the Ark crew. Not that any of them really disrespected him, but not many seemed to realise just what his job entailed. They appreciated his dedication, and many tried their best to stop him from over-working himself… he knew he was exceptionally paranoid, but that was only if he felt a part of his well crafted security system had gone amiss. Otherwise he felt perfectly satisfied that the Ark was safe from attack.

But this was all only _half_ of his job.

The other half entailed the impressive ability to keep secrets… _everyone_ _'_ _s_ secrets. Most of the members of the Ark were so used to feeling safe and secure within it's walls that they forgot just what was keeping them that way. Namely, Red Alerts cameras.

Oh, the things that the security director's optics beheld on a joorly basis.

True, every mech on the ship knew he had likely the most impressive and formidable stash of blackmail material than any other bot on board, and that was true… but often times they'd forget that this was not just a fact, but a reality which affected them all personally. His glitch seemed to have put many mechs under the impression that he was a bot that could be easily swayed, and more than once a few irate subordinates had forgotten, seemingly, that he was indeed still an officer.

Red Alert smiled to himself again. It was all too easy to put them back in their place… he had at least one damning memory on call for each member of the Ark, so that if any of them stepped out of line, he had a fast and sure-fire way of exerting his authority.

The method had not failed him yet.

The red and white Lamborghini's optics settled on the screen showing Prowl once more, noting his door-wings droop slightly at the dull pain probably running through his CPU.

The SIC was one of the few mechs that really appreciated the security director's monumental feats of discretion. He was well aware that not only did Red Alert witness many intimate acts that most mechs never meant anyone else to see, but he went to extra measures to make sure they remained private. His data records security was exceptionally high and complex.

Red Alerts only vice was that he couldn't, understandably, always keep it to himself. But he didn't entrust just _anyone_ with some of his more… intimate blackmail material.

There were a total of two mechs he shared it with, and only because he had the utmost faith that neither would say a word… as much for their own benefit as everyone else's.

Because of course, it wasn't like Red didn't have beans to spill on them if they betrayed his trust anyway.

The SD sighed through his vents, optics once more roving keenly over the monitor banks.

Mirage and Hound had just come off shift and were alone in the wash racks. Red was only slightly disappointed that he couldn't put a camera in there (not for lack of trying, of course). He liked seeing the normally reserved former towers mech getting fresh with the tracker, and it was a rare sight in the corridors or rec. room. But still, they were entitled to their privacy, and Red was not a pervert. He merely enjoyed witnessing the sharing of affection between his comrades (and so did Inferno, when they needed inspiration). It always helped him forget about the war… he could almost pretend it wasn't happening, that they were back on cybertron.

Looking further, he noted Cliffjumper talking to Wheeljack in the engineer's general lab, who's helm panels were flashing in a way that suggested he was excited. He was talking back to the minibot in an animated fashion while fiddling with the insides of the red bot's rifle.

Yes, his cameras outside had caught the impressive blast from the modified weapon on the firing range earlier. He made a mental note to ask Wheeljack if he could calibrate the Ark's outside defence turrets to the same setting.

Elsewhere, other mechs were going about their duties, many out on patrol, a few cleaning the armoury, Bluestreak busy talking to himself as he took inventory in the base material supplies storage room, Optimus talking to a few human officials through the vid-screen in the conference room, and Prowl still sitting at the report entry terminal…

Hang on…

The security director frowned slightly, looking closer. The camera was directly on Prowl's back, facing the screens to have the best view of the terminals in case an intruder was messing with them.

The SIC was no longer sitting rigid, but hunched slightly over the console he was still slowly typing on. His door wings shuddered, and Red began to worry his glitch had had a worse effect on him than usual.

He keyed his comm. frequency into the camera's audio feed, but Prowl didn't seem to be cursing in pain… he turned up the receptivity and noted the sound of the Datsun's hard ventilations.

His concern deepened, something was definitely wrong, and Red was on the verge of calling Ratchet when a soft moan came through the audio…

And it certainly didn't sound pained.

Red alert's servo froze half-way to the ship's intercom button. He remained perfectly still so as not to miss a sound from the vid feed. He watched Prowl's back with wide optics as his door-wings shuddered again, harder this time, and he leant a little further over his console, his typing ceasing momentarily.

The security director was… confused, to say the least. If he didn't know better, he'd say Prowl was… was self-interfacing, but that couldn't be it, because both his servos were on the keyboard in front of him.

But… there were no other mechs in the-

Red's train of thought came to a grinding halt as he heard the softest snicker of laughter and the purr of an engine under the rev of the tacticians. The Red and White lambo knew that wasn't Prowl's laugh, but he couldn't place it's owner…

Prowl gasped and jerked slightly in his seat and Red felt his faceplate flush with a little heat. He'd only caught Prowl interfacing on camera once, and that had been when Jazz had cornered the tactician in a store-room and confessed his feelings… and he'd never use that as Blackmail, although it did remain in his private favourites collection under the top level of security. All the same, seeing one of his closest friends in that position made him feel a little guilty.

His awkwardness was quickly over-ridden by his curiosity though, as another soft moan met his audios.

Who was the other mech? He couldn't see them _at all_ … he'd have thought it was Mirage if he hadn't heard the mystery bot laugh. Their tone was far too high pitched for the ligier though.

So if the mech wasn't invisibly fondling the tactician, then…

_Oh my primus_ _…_

Red felt his temperature rise uncomfortably as he deduced where the other mech must be and what they were doing.

Sure enough, to back up his theory, he heard the soft, wet sucking sounds and Prowl fail to stifle a keen of pleasure.

 _It has to be a minibot, if they_ _'_ _re hiding under the console, no other mech would fit_ _…_ _but which one? And_ _…_ _why on earth are they_ _…_ _doing THAT to PROWL of all mechs? Hmmm, maybe the Twins are having a prank war with them, or someone put one up to it_ _…_ _Brawn would go in for a dare, but I don_ _'_ _t think he_ _'_ _d agree to do THAT_ _…_ _maybe Huffer would, but he_ _'_ _s not really flexible enough to fit under that console without being seen_ _…_ _I_ _'_ _d say it was Cliffjumper if I didn_ _'_ _t know he was with Wheeljack right now_ (he glanced up at the other screen to reconfirm that the red minibot was still with the inventor, and he was) _, but then that leaves either Gears, Powerglide, Windcharger or Bumblebee._

Red alert actually chuckled out loud to himself, thankful that Blaster didn't hear him because his music was up too loud in his audios where he was watching the other set of camera feeds several feet away.

 _Well Bumblebee is a ludicrous_ _guess, and Powerglide wouldn_ _'_ _t fit with his wings and helm, so either Gears or Windcharger are the culprits_ _…_ _I guess I_ _'_ _ll just have to wait and see_ _…_ _doesn_ _'_ _t seem like it will be long until I find out anyway._

Red alert sniggered quietly to himself, unable to deny just how much he liked the short, soft, pleasured sounds his black and white friend was making as the mystery mech gave him what looked to be a very nice work-over.

* * *

Bumblebee and Jazz flopped down on one of the training mats when they were finished with their combat practice.

They'd been running through special operations scenarios, like being caught while on an intelligence mission and how to deal with whatever number of assailants had discovered your position.

Bumblebee had learnt the various procedures stellar cycles ago during his initial SpecOps training. He'd been placed in the category of spies who learnt more escape techniques than how to fight their way out, but when he'd joined the Ark and come under Jazz's command, the saboteur had seen fit to add the confrontational combat training to his repertoire. The academy had deemed him too small a class of mech to qualify for hand-to-hand techniques lessons. Jazz had said that was stupid, and he had been right. Bumblebee had picked up the combat moves easily and could generally use them on any bot up to about Jazz's size. They'd been invaluable tools during both missions and battle.

The spy vented long and heartily on the mat as he leaned back to back with the TIC.

"Good form today Bee… especially given the effect the activities last night had on ya." Jazz murmured cheekily, and Bumblebee's faceplates glowed a dull red.

"Heh, yea, and who's fault was that?" The minibot retorted, feeling Jazz's deep laugh through his chassis.

"Touché'"

"'Course the blame doesn't rest solely on you." Bumblebee added mischievously.

"What was that ya said yesterday about outlastin' us in the 'facin' stakes?" Jazz teased slyly, but Bumblebee didn't really react because his train of thought had gone elsewhere.

"Hey Jazz, speaking of Prowl… how is it for him usually, when he crashes? Has he ever told you what it's like? Does it do anything to him I don't know about?" the Spy asked plainly, but Jazz caught the undercurrent of concern in the minibot's tone.

"Apart from make his gyros slightly unsteady and givin' him a processor ache, it doesn't do him any lasting harm. It does tend to make him a little grumpy, but tha's just the pain and slight disorientation. Usually takes him about 8 cycles to recover completely. As to how it feels, that's another thing. He says it's about an astrosecond of tank unsettling discomfort, and then he jus' stops thinking, and next thing he knows, he's wakin' up in Med Bay. Annoyin' more than anything else."

Bumblebee rolled onto his front and looked up at Jazz thoughtfully.

"Do we have any more training to go through?"

Jazz cocked his head to the side in a curious manner. "Nah, I reckon we're done for today, why? What's cookin' in that devious lil processor of yours?" the saboteur asked suspiciously.

Bumblebee's grin widened innocently, optics brightening slightly. "Oh nothing much… I think I might just practice some stealth and make Prowl feel better at the same time."

Jazz's faceplate split into an identical grin.

"That DOES sound like a good idea. Except Prowl's doin' data entry at the report console. The camera in that room faces the computer bank direc- what's that look?"

Jazz's voice was low and quizzical as Bumblebee wore the wickedest grin he'd seen on a mech who wasn't either of the Twins.

"Oh Jazz, you're slipping… you don't remember the air-duct layout of this place very well do you?"

Jazz wore a bemused expression. "No. But I'm guessing you're gonna remind me… that's your job anyway, you're the only one of my mechs that fit in em'."

"Well, FYI, one of the ducts comes out right under that console, and better still… right where the main keyboard is situated, so he _should_ be sitting right in front of it." Bumblebee nearly purred.

Jazz's visor flared. "Oh man, you're _not_ _…"_

"I _am._ " Bumblebee replied coyly. "The only problem is, the shaft getting down there is really long. I can go down OK, but I won't want to go back up with my cables still sore, it'll be too much strain. So I'll have to leave via the door and hope whoever is doing monitor duty doesn't notice I never walked _in_ while I'm walking out."

"That ain't ya only problem. Ya gotta hope Prowler can keep up a good act today. I know whenever I've done that ta him he couldn't keep his door-wings or his vocaliser in check." Jazz admitted with clear amusement.

"I'll just have to make it quick." Bumblebee said with a wink, making Jazz laugh. The Beetle hopped up and went over to the nearest air vent, Jazz going with him to give him a boost.

"Any tips, seeing as you've had experience in this kind of _mission_?" the minibot asked with a snicker as he hoisted himself into the vent from the foothold of Jazz's interlocked servos.

"Yea, just one-" Bumblebee turned his head to see the thing Jazz pushed into the air vent beside him, "- take a video… so I can replay your technique for 'professional review' later!"

Bumblebee laughed and picked up the multi-function recorder before making his way into the familiar ventilation system with ease.

* * *

Prowl's aching processor gave another small surge and he winced, door-wings drooping slightly as he sighed through his vents. His digits continued to flit across the keypad in front of him, logging a file filled with the Twin's indiscretions from the past few earth weeks.

The only thing he heard was the quiet hum of the teletraan terminal and it's computer banks.

So when he felt something brush his codpiece under the console, he nearly jumped right out of his seat.

But the quiet laugh that soon followed instantly calmed him. It didn't much help his processor ache though. He glanced wide optic'd under the terminal.

"Bumblebee, how did you-"

"Shhhhh. Here to help your processor ache, but no letting Red Alert know I'm here, this counts as a stealth exercise." The beetle replied in a coy whisper.

Still both puzzled and… to some degree just a little surprised and grateful, Prowl looked back up at the screen and pulled his moveable chair back up to the console.

He managed to suppress a tingle of anticipation as the minibot's digits lightly caressed up the inside of his legs.

He tried to make his movements look natural as he obliged Bumblebee's prompts for him to spread his thighs. He wanted very much to ask what exactly had prompted this sudden and highly dubious 'stealth mission', but apart from already suspecting it was Jazz's doing, he had to admit having to try and act normal for the security director's cameras while Bumblebee stroked at his panel seams was quite a turn-on.

True to his word, the spy did not waste time, and Prowl couldn't stop his door-wings from shuddering visibly as Bumblebee exposed his interfacing array and began lapping at it eagerly.

It became increasingly harder to continue to type, or even concentrate on the task at hand while trying not to respond to the pleasurable sensations the minibot was sending through him.

The Datsun found himself hunching over the console, under which he could picture his new lover, on his knees, digits massaging the insides of his thighs, glossa poking out of those little silver lip-plates, tracing the rim of his port before disappearing-

" _Oooooh._ _"_

Prowl gave up any pretence of working for a moment as Bumblebee giggled softly into his port.

He hoped fervently that his red and white friend wasn't paying the video feed on him any attention right now. His door-wings jerked violently when his cord was released and a small servo began to pump it's already pressurised length to coax it all the way out.

By this point, the tactician's CPU ache had been over-ridden by the pleasure signals flooding his array, and not being able to see the perpetrator of his bliss, his meta was going wild with memories of the last time this had happened…

Jazz had done it about a year or so ago, during one of his tele-conferences with the humans.

The Canadian minister for defence had had no idea what his strange tone or movements had been… and as unprofessional as Prowl had felt it had been, he couldn't deny that it had set his circuits afire with some misplaced sort of lust. Jazz had assured him this semi-public interface kink was thought of as hot by both Cybertronians and humans, and was something he should embrace rather than feel shame over.

It certainly was _wrong_ … in a way that felt awfully _good_. Still, It had only been the third time Jazz had done it, but he hadn't since because he was aware of Prowl's internal consternation over it.

The fact that he hadn't passed the knowledge onto Bumblebee wasn't that surprising though. The saboteur probably hoped the spy would change his mind on the subject.

And it wasn't too far fetched of a prospect right now either.

Prowl managed to hold his glossa (and his intakes) as he felt Bumblebee travel with his mouth up the underside of his cord, before slowly... _agonisingly_ slowly, he slid the tactician's spike through barely parted lips and began to languidly suckle his way down it.

Prowl couldn't stop the soft noises that escaped him or the twitching of his hips as he gripped the edge of the console. Bumblebee made wonderful wet noises as he massaged the sheathing of the Datsun's cord with his glossa.

He felt the minibot slip his digits into his port and gently stroke his still tender valve walls, teasing the sensors and making Prowl shudder with ecstasy.

Bumblebee could tell Prowl was close by the fervent wriggling in his chair and the short, bitten off sounds of pleasure he was failing to completely hold back.

The Minibot just wished he could see the black and white's door-wings… he knew they'd be fluttering and quivering in that beautiful, imminent way… such a fantastic visual of the datsun's building charge.

Bumblebee sucked harder just thinking about it, and swallowing continuously, he took the whole spike.

The tactician didn't stand a chance (not that he ever thought he had), but it was with the thrilling, terrifying thought of what would happen if someone were to walk in right then and there on this scene that pushed Prowl over the edge.

A servo flew to his mouth and he pressed the back of his hand hard against his faceplate to stifle his suppressed cry of ecstasy.

Bumblebee felt the tingle of Prowl's ungrounded charge release and the hard shudder that swept over the SIC's body.

For the recording device in his left servo, he languidly made a show of drawing slowly off Prowl's spike, still sucking so that when he released it, it made a satisfying 'pop' as it left his mouth.

The spy then made sure to lick all the lubricant off his right hand digits for the camera before winking and shutting it off.

"Feel better?" the spy murmured to the black and white heap panting on the terminal above him.

A very inarticulate but sated sounding 'uh-huh' came from somewhere above him and Bumblebee giggled again.

Prowl found the wherewithal to push his chair back again and he sluggishly reached for Bumblebee's faceplates with his servos, blue optics over-bright.

Bumblebee made no resistance to being pulled into a grateful kiss where he knelt, still out of sight of the room's main camera.

When Prowl finally pulled away, he rested his fore-helm on Bumblebee's, the spy beaming.

 **That was fun, I should do mock stealth missions more often.** Bumblebee sent over his comm. so the surveillance audio feed wouldn't pick him up.

Prowl chuckled through still heavily cycling ventilations.

**I** **…** **have to say I** **'** **m inclined to agree** **…** **so long as your prepared for the consequences of a failed mission.**

Bumblebee grinned even wider, **I** **'** **m never prepared to fail missions, it helps me make sure I have no choice but to succeed.**

Prowl laughed again and shook his head, offering Bumblebee a hand up. The spy took it, but was momentarily surprised when the Datsun pulled him not just to his feet, but into his lap on the chair.

The minibot smiled coyly, resting his servos on Prowl's hood while the SIC's tapered white fingers clasped his hip-plates lightly.

"So if Red Alert happens to be watching us at this very moment, does that not count as a failed mission?" The tactician purred playfully, door-wings twitching in amusement.

Bumblebee raised an orbital ridge at Prowl and smirked slightly. "You don't know what my mission brief was. Getting away unseen wasn't the concern, I just had to get you off without being caught. The objective was achieved, your processor ache seems to have been cured."

Prowl's faceplate split into a full smile and he leaned in and kissed the minibot lightly again.

"You certainly did, thank you… I suppose I have Jazz to thank for this later as well?"

Bumblebee shrugged. "You can if you want, but he just explained your symptoms after crashing when I asked, the rest was me. Anyway, the mission record I made should be thanks enough to him." the spy said slyly, flashing the recording device before he popped it into sub-space. Prowl's faceplate glowed slightly upon finding out the act had been recorded without his knowledge. He sighed dramatically. "I should know better than to allow Special Ops mechs to court me, what is it with you saboteurs and your surveillance fetishes?"

Bumblebee shrugged and laughed at that before he hopped off his lap.

"I know you still haven't finished your shift, and I've got patrol with Windcharger in a couple of Breems, so… catch you this evening in the rec. room?"

Prowl smiled fondly at him, "It's a date. I'll be sure to bring Jazz as well, we have a short meeting with Prime and the Mayor of Detroit before the end of our shifts. It may run on, but we'll comm. You if it does."

Bumblebee nodded and swiftly pecked him on the cheek ridge before practically bouncing along out of the room.

The SIC merely grinned and shook his head after the minibot's departure. Primus, It was certainly going to be a while before he stopped wondering at the new little mech in his life. Bumblebee had always had a knack for cheering others up, but he'd still never have guessed that in a relationship that would morph into something so… well… _hot._

* * *

Red Alert fought to keep his cooling fans from kicking on as Prowl went rigid and pressed the back of his servo to his mouth to mute his sounds of pleasure in overload.

The arching quiver of his door-wings was certainly something to behold, but after five astroseconds, he slumped forward and relaxed.

The security director fidgeted in his chair, impatiently waiting to see if the other mech revealed themselves. He'd heard another mumbled sound that wasn't the SIC, but he didn't have a hope of identifying the mech from it.

Prowl moved back and leant under the desk… Red could have sworn Prowl was kissing the other bot… perhaps it _was_ Jazz and he had some new means of stealth that allowed him to get into the position he was-

All of the red and white Lamborghini's thoughts came to grinding halt, once more, as the tactician leant back and pulled the other mech out from under the console, and into his lap.

…No… that couldn't… wasn't… how… never…

_Bumblebee?_

It was all Red Alert could do to prevent himself from glitching like Prowl, but this didn't trigger his paranoia, and his logic circuits weren't nearly as highly tuned as the SIC's, so he managed to pull himself together without Blaster even noticing his current predicament.

But… seriously… _BUMBLEBEE?_

He listened to their short conversation and analysed their interaction critically… apparently Jazz knew all about them, was in fact a part of some three way relationship they had going on.

Well, Primus, Red Alert prided himself on knowing the truth behind much of the gossip on the Ark, how in the _pit_ had this one escaped everyone's attention?

Any mechs who weren't defending Bumblebee against rumours that the Twins were moving in on him in an overly friendly fashion hadn't even speculated anything going on between the spy and the two mechs ranked just below the Prime.

However… Red Alert was not a mech to go shooting his vocaliser off about private matters if they didn't concern him or a breach of his security. He _may_ just have to do a teensy bit of blackmailing though… surely Prowl or Jazz wouldn't begrudge him bargaining a copy of Bumblebee's 'mission record' for himself. Jazz would probably be the best bot to go to for that… after all, if the minibot spy could get into the data-log room unseen, it was a security issue, and he had a right to access any training mission records of the incident.

The security director smiled to himself as he tuned out of the vid feed, watching the minibot on the screen with a new light to his optics. He had a feeling he might learn something from the spy that Inferno would very much appreciate, if Prowl was anything to go by.

* * *

Bumblebee returned to his quarters late that night. He had spent most of his evening playing various card games with Prowl, Jazz, Smokescreen, Tracks and Mirage.

He hadn't forgotten the events of the morning, and so wasn't surprised to find Cliffjumper awake on his berth when he entered their quarters. He'd hoped if he came in late, the other minibot would have forgotten… but it seemed luck was not with him.

"Oh, hey CJ. What's up, I thought you'd be recharging by now?"

Cliffjumper gave him a very slight smirk, as was his usual way of greeting friends. His newly repaired and now properly recalibrated rifle was in a few pieces around him as he thoroughly cleaned it. "Nothin' really Bee, just curiosity keeping me up. I wanted to ask you about whatever it was Bluestreak was talking about this morning. Sounded like the Twins have been going overboard?"

Bumblebee sighed through his vents and went to collapse on his berth. Clearly Cliffjumper had been practising this conversation all evening. It was well known that many of the Ark's resident minibots held special grudges against the Lambo Brothers. Mostly because the Twins targeted them. The irony being they pranked the ones that complained the loudest most frequently, a fact many mechs had tried to point out to Cliffjumper, Brawn, Gears and Powerglide, but they were all of them too stubborn to not rant and rave if they fell victim, and so they remained the most frequently pranked.

Cliffjumper seemed to take it upon himself to be an advocate for his fellow smaller framed friends and would go in to bat against the Twins if he felt any one of them were being picked on too much… especially Bumblebee, given he was so socially harmless and prone to not lash back against the Lambos himself.

Well… not that Cliffjumper _knew_ anyway…

"Well, they played a prank on me, but it was harmless, and I already freaked them out making them think I have no memory of the incident… and I had Jazz and Blue back me up, so they haven't bugged me since."

"And what about that overcharging incident? From what _I_ heard, they got you so hammered you passed out, and then they fragged Blue with you still in the room and didn't give a slag about you being unconscious." Cliffjumpers expression and tone had become serious now.

Bumblebee shot him a slightly embarrassed look. "They didn't force me to drink that high grade, I wanted to. And you of all mechs know how much of a lightweight I am. They didn't just leave me passed out on the floor or anything, and you know, I'm not so sure they did anything more serious than grope Blue. I thought I heard a bit of moaning before I was really out of it, but no clanging, and I always figured the Twins don't mess around for ages when it comes to that."

Cliffjumper grunted in way of a reply and continued to polish the barrel piece of his rifle.

There was silence as Bumblebee fished a polishing cloth out of his subspace and fixed a few scuffs on his knee plating.

"Bee, you know, if they start picking on you-"

Bumblebee sighed through his vents and glanced up coolly at Cliffjumper where he sat frowning across the room.

"Been though this before CJ, you know better than most I'm not a sparkling."

"Yea, I also know you let other mechs get away with walking all over you too much. Why don't you ever speak up against them?"

Cliffjumper sounded slightly frustrated at his companion's lack of self-defensiveness.

"CJ, it's part of my job not to call attention to myself. The few mechs that get pushy usually end up apologising later anyway." The yellow minibot replied simply.

"Pfff, the Twins? Apologise to one of us? That'd be the day." Cliffjumper replied with a snarl.

"They have their own ways of saying sorry." Bumblebee said offhandedly, looking back down at his pede as he cleaned one of his headlights carefully.

"What, locking you in their room for over a cycle was their way of making up to you for getting you overcharged and being lewd with their lover right in front of you? I know that kinda slag might seem like an awesome night for some mechs, but I know you aren't the kind who appreciates having your friends groped inappropriately in front of your optics."

Bumblebee was starting to get a little irritated at how much Cliffjumper was pushing his point. Honestly, of all bots, the one he'd first fragged on the entire ship was trying to defend his honour as an innocent, chaste little thing? What, was he afraid the Twins would traumatise him with a little high-grade, some overly-disclosed interfacing and a few pranks?

"You might think the only thing similar about us is how we look and the way we frag CJ, but don't start turning into another one of these mechs who assumes that because I'm not asserting myself against every bot that gives me grief that I'm weak. I'm quite capable of defending myself without shouting or getting angry. Just you remember, I've faced off against Megatron more than once and survived, I think I can handle the Twins just fine thanks."

This definitely seemed to put a halt to any more of Cliffjumpers arguments, and they finished their separate cleaning tasks in silence before Bumblebee muttered 'goodnight' rather carelessly. It was a habit most of the bots on the ark had picked up since coming to earth, and Cliffjumper responded with an appeasing sounding 'night Bee' before turning off the light over his berth as well, plunging the two into darkness, lit only by the faint glow of their optics before they shuttered them and initiated their recharges.

* * *

Bumblebee's internal chronometer recorded that he'd gotten about 4 cycles of recharge before he was onlined by a persistent ping.

Sluggishly, the spy read the sender signal and jolted a little more awake to see it was Jazz.

The yellow bot instantly opened his comm. channel as he sat up, trying to get his systems to online faster.

**Heeey Bee, I** **'m sorry to wake ya like this. Need ya help with something' over in Prowlers quarters, think you can come over a.s.a.p?**

Bumblebee refreshed his optics a few times before swinging his pedes off the berth and silently heading for the door. Being a spy, he was in the habit of onlining fast and quietly, a trait necessary during missions and handy sometimes in normal situations, especially with a room-mate. Except that Cliffjumper was a heavy recharger anyway, so it didn't really matter.

**On my way. What** **'s the situation?**

**Well, it's two situations, one's kinda urgent, the other not so much. You'll see the first when you get here and the second is the usual.**

Bumblebee nodded to himself as he paced quickly through the hallways. 'The usual' was code for not safe to discuss over comms. Actually admitting something wasn't safe to discuss through a comm. link made saying it redundant, because if a Decepticon heard that they'd just assume something was going down and they'd bolster their defences.

**Okay, be there in two kliks.**

The minibot began to wonder what on earth Jazz and (assumingly given the placement) Prowl would need with him at a cycle before the on-shifts started. Usually stuff like this involved special intel' and resulted in spur of the moment missions. That would most likely be the second part of Jazz's summons. But the first part?… Had something happened to Prowl? Had his glitch acted up? Maybe, Bumblebee thought with a terrible churn of his tank, the damage wasn't as non-permanent as they had all thought…

The spy decided to jog the rest of the way to the SIC's quarters, Jazz answering his enquiry ping with a short text that the doors were unlocked.

Bumblebee passed straight through the office and hastily opened the door to Prowl's quarters, now thoroughly convinced there was something wrong with the tactician and Jazz would need his help getting him to med-bay…

He stopped dead in the doorway, mouth hanging open as he gazed upon the spectacle on the berth.

Prowl was… trussed up like a live-caught turbo-fox. His arms were bound behind him, knees tied up and apart with a metal bar fixed in place to keep his legs spread, and a gag around his mouth (on which it looked like he was biting down hard).

Bumblebee's optics flickered to where Jazz was vigorously stroking Prowl's pressurised spike. The Datsun's lubricant was already all over the berth, and he was writhing in his bonds and moaning, sounding both pleasured and pained.

Jazz threw Bumblebee an almost apologetic look.

"I know this seems really weird, an we didn't wanna spring it on ya so soon but… well… it's been an awful long time since Prowl's last heat and this one's getting pretty bad… And I just can't fix it on my own in under a cycle, but we got a situation to deal with and Prowler won't be in any state to contribute like this." He gestured to the tactician, who's cooling fans and engine were revving wildly. Bumblebee got closer and saw that the SIC's faceplate was flushed a dull red and his optics were nearly purple. Prowl locked onto his gaze and a tingle ran down the minibot's spine. It was clear, despite the minibot's lack of knowledge in this field, that Prowl was overly aroused and seemingly desperate for relief.

"W-what… why is he like this? What's with the restraints?" Bumblebee asked as Jazz ushered him onto the berth, still stroking Prowl's cord firmly.

"Part of his interfacing glitch. I tried to tell ya, but words just don't do this bit justice. He can't help this, it just happens to him. He gets so aroused he can't function until he's had all that tension charge fragged out of him. And he gets off easier if he can't move, cause, ya know, he's so used to bein' in control of things, it's a total turnaround when he has none." Jazz gave him a lopsided grin and Prowl gave a muffled whine, tossing his head and bucking his hips slightly ( with his knees bound to his elbows, he couldn't really articulate himself much).

"I'm gonna need ya to help me take turns overloadin' the heat outta him before the on-shift, we got a deadline mission to initiate, an you're part of it, so I figured you wouldn't mind too much helping' me out." the saboteur explained, grin widening.

Bumblebee looked over Prowl's frame again and felt a hot surge of lust through his circuits, still tender interfacing array tingling at the prospect of further use.

"Well… what kind of a bot would I be if I refused to help the mechs I'm secretly fraternising with?" the minibot purred with a small grin.

Jazz smiled gratefully back. "Fantastic, knew I could count on ya." He leant over and placed an ecstatic kiss on Bumblebee's cheek plating, pace on Prowl's spike accelerating.

"Well, better get yer cord out, 'cause it's your turn. I already spiked him three times and I'm not sure how many more it's gonna take."

Bumblebee's eyes widened slightly, but he drew in a long vent of air, the smell of Prowl's arousal heavy on his olfactory sensors, and opened his panel. The scent alone had effected him enough that his cord was half pressurised when he released it, and one look at Prowl's glistening wet port was enough to get him the rest of the way there.

Bumblebee slipped in without a problem, and gasped as the tactician's valve clenched down on him erratically, so hot and slick, and the sound he made… _Primus_ even through that gag it sent a shiver down the minibot's back-strut.

Bumblebee allowed his less-reserved spy persona out again to help Jazz give Prowl what he needed.

The black and white mech moaned loudly and wantonly beneath him as, for the fourth time, Bumblebee held onto the SIC's thighs and pounded into him, hips moving in a now practiced circular motion, making sure to slide all the way out and into the clenching valve with each thrust. The berth was now slick with messy lubricant and Bumblebee wondered how on earth Prowl hadn't run out yet before he realised he and Jazz had probably added to the mess. They had both already ridden the helpless, writhing, keening tactician and their lubricant had splattered all over the black pelvic armour. Bumblebee could still feel his own port dripping down the insides of his thighs.

Jazz was currently attempting to clean as much off as he could, tracing his glossa over Prowl's hip plating, then around his spike, before he took the drenched and still erect spike in his mouth and sucked their combined fluids from it while Bumblebee upped his pace a little.

The minibot was panting and making small keening noises with every thrust now. He'd never used his spike so much in his entire life stream! It was at a point were the slightest movement sent hot fire through his sensors… it was pleasure on the very knife edge of pain, but it was, given the smells and the visual of a lover helpless to his every ministration, absolutely intoxicating.

Bumblebee magnetised and connected to Prowl's too-hot socket, feeling the electrifying zap of charge arcing between them before he connected, and then he surged his blissful sensations and energy through to Prowl, who overloaded with a loud and unrestrained cry as his own charge flooded back into Bumblebee, taking the minibot with him. Bumblebee cried out incoherently, remembering after a nanoklik to try and stifle himself (the soundproofed office next door could only do so much to muffle the sounds they were making, the walls of the SIC's quarters were not soundproofed) , ending up keening through his dentals and quivering with the intense overload before slumping and clinging to Prowl's legs for support.

The two mechs panted heavily, groaning at the pings of after-pleasure that zinged through their circuits.

Jazz drew off Prowl's spike, and it slowly but surely depressurised, making the saboteur grin widely with a sated and somewhat exhausted hum.

"I think we've done it. Prowler?… feelin' ok love?"

Jazz leant over the red chevroned helm, removing the gag and stroking the over-warm silvery faceplate affectionately.

"Y-yes… I think… I'm ok now… thankyou…"

Bumblebee smiled against the Datsun's leg and kissed the plating gently. They had already untied his knees from his elbows halfway through their session to gain a different angle for Prowl, so all Bumblebee had to do was release the shackles on the bar holding the black and white legs apart.

Once he laid Prowl's legs out slowly to work on the restraints, Jazz helped the tactician sit up so he could undo the cuffs on his wrists.

Bumblebee could see Prowl's optics had returned to their normal blue colour, although they seemed dim. He was obviously in need of some energon after that kind of energy expenditure.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this so soon Bumblebee." The SIC mumbled through his static laced vocaliser, looking sheepish and spent.

"I'm not." Bumblebee replied with a smirk, relieving Prowl's legs of their spread position as he placed the bar off to the side. The Datsun hissed slightly as Bumblebee helped him flex the joints slowly, Jazz doing the same with his arms once they were freed.

"I think that was another record… we've still got 25 kliks before the on-cycle. C'mon Prowler, some hot water will fix ya in no time."

The three of them walked rather stiff legged to Prowl's wash racks. Jazz was right about the water, as the minibot felt his stiff joints and cables relax and settle with the heat. He made a mental note to always have a hot shower after vigorous interfacing to ease his physical over-stretchings before they had a chance to settle on his frame.

They made quick work of washing up, before cleaning Prowl's berth, throwing the bonding equipment into a locker and settling on Prowl's sofa with some concentrated energon.

"I don't like using this outside of true emergencies, but… right now I don't know that I'm up to going any further than the conference room, let alone back and forth to the commissary." Prowl admitted tiredly. Bumblebee sipped his small cube of blue coloured, high charged energon and nodded in understanding. The stuff was usually only to give a boost if a mech was forced to forego stasis during critical situations or missions.

"If you guys are expecting me to go on a mission anytime soon, you're going to have to give me some coolant gel supplies, because there is noooo way I'm doing a stakeout with my crotch on fire."

Jazz and Prowl both chuckled and gave him understanding nods. "You'll get all the gel you need Bee. Can't fill you in on the details until the meeting, but it's not gonna be anything' new to ya."

"As inconvenient as my body's timing seems to have been, at least you've had enough intimate contact with us to last you several missions over." Prowl said with a slight grin.

"Heh, don't bet on it. I'd give myself about two joors away from you both before I started getting desperate. _Especially_ after this morning's performance… Primus I was missing you both yesterday, you're too addictive for your own good you know."

Bumblebee grinned widely as he heard both black and white mechs engines purr loudly in response to his confession.

"Well, I'm afraid ya gonna have to keep it in your panel. If that means ya gonna have to pounce us as soon as you get back, then so be it." Jazz purred before finishing his cube.

"For now, the meeting shouldn't be too long, and there'll be time to attend to our discomfort after… come on, we've got about 5 kliks, we ought to get a move on." Prowl sighed, finishing his own cube and standing slowly. He flexed his wings in slow circles before turning to collect and dispose of his companions cubes before they left together, hoping more than anything that no-one would pass them and notice they all had a slightly awkward gait. Bumblebee was suddenly very glad that it was so early in the morning and no one was really about.


	10. Chapter 10

"All four cassettes? And you're sure they're completely decommissioned?" Bumblebee said, astounded.

"Heh. Don't sound so surprised Bee. The twins ain't the only mechs capable of doing some damage where those little fraggers are concerned." Brawn sniggered, not noticing Jazz's knowing smirk.

Bumblebee didn't even bat an optic shutter.

"Well, looks like an extended mission is in order, it'll take Soundwave at least an orn to get any of them back up to working standard, especially Ravage since you two concentrated your attack." Prowl said, making a tonne of notes on his data-pad.

"I get to re-acquaint myself with the Nemesis' air vents for a whole orn, yay." the yellow minibot said wryly with a crooked grin.

Jazz chuckled and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Yea, but it ain't fer no reason that you're my main mech for the job. This'll be a piece of oil cake for you, and Mirage and Hound will be nearby as usual in case ya need to pull out early."

Bumblebee flickered him a look and raised an orbital ridge infinitesimally at his choice of words. The saboteur didn't miss any of it, being so used to catching Prowl's tiny flickers of emotion, but gave nothing away himself except for letting his grin spread a little wider.

The slight rise of Prowl's door-wings on his back indicated he had missed none of the subtle exchange, but he said nothing, and every other mech in the room was oblivious.

"When is the best time to start the mission?" Optimus asked, looking up from his own briefing notes.

They outlined Brawn and Gears' night patrol and the events that had lead to this early morning meeting.

The two minibots had come across all four of Soundwave's cassettes attempting to start their own intelligence gathering mission on the Ark, but had quickly and brutally put an end to Ravage, Laserbeak, Rumble and Frenzy's plans.

In fact, they had done such an efficient job of fragging the four small decepticons up that the smallest 'Cons only escaped after sending out a distress signal and being picked up by Skywarp before the two minibots could take any of them prisoner.

"As soon as possible, probably in the next three cycles. We want to give Bumblebee as much time as possible in there, there's no doubt Soundwave won't delay in starting the cassettes repairs." Prowl replied, door wings dropping back down a little as he spoke, belying only to Jazz his feelings over having to send the minibot away so soon.

"So, any specific information you need me to pick up this time, other than the usual?" Bumblebee asked plainly, quietly going over his usual list of necessary equipment to take in his processor.

"Well, 'Raj has been noting some odd behaviour from the seekers lately, and while he seems ta think it has something to do with Starscream just underminin' Megatron again, as usual, we think you should check it out just in case." Jazz explained, and the beetle nodded.

"Well, if that is all the extraneous business out of the way, I suppose this meeting is adjourned." Optimus stated in a subdued tone, and his second and third in charge nodded in affirmation, dismissing the rest of the mechs in the room.

Hound and Mirage went off to prepare themselves. They would need more equipment than Bumblebee given they would be camping out near the shoreline while he was entrenched in enemy territory.

"When ya done packin' everythin' you need, come back to my quarters so Prowl and I can give ya a proper final breifin'" Jazz said quietly to Bumblebee, giving him a little smirk as Optimus turned to say something to Prowl.

"Ok, but I hope it's not going to be like the pre-meeting briefing you gave me this morning, or you're gonna have trouble getting me out of the base, let alone off to do my mission." Bumblebee murmured quietly back as he stowed a data-pad with the information pertaining to all the facts they'd exchanged about the patrol and the cassetticons damage.

Jazz just chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder before turning to collect Prowl and leave.

"Mind if I escort you back to your quarters Bumblebee?"

The minibot was a little stunned when Optimus rumbled his request politely as they became the last to leave the room.

"Not at all sir. Something you wanted to talk to me about?" The spy asked curiously as the much larger mech reigned in his usual long strides to a shorter gait to match Bumblebee's.

"I hope I don't seem intrusive, but I wanted to hear from you that what happened the other joor with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe wasn't something I should be reprimanding them for…"

The semi's voice trailed off slightly awkwardly.

Bumblebee had grown somewhat tired of mechs asking him about the incident over the last few days, and still true to their word despite the small exchange of pranks that happened after, the Twins hadn't divulged the truth of that night either.

But Bumblebee couldn't quite believe his audios… of all bots, now their commander and Prime was even asking?

The minibot, who had been irate with most other mechs who asked, suddenly found himself unable to hold back a chuckle. Optimus raised an orbital ridge slightly at the reaction.

"I'll take that as a no?" he said lightly.

"Sorry, sir, it's just I didn't think it would ever be important enough to worry you, I've already had half the Ark asking about it, I just never expected… heh, yea um, that's a no. They really didn't do anything I'd object to if sober, and it was also my choice to not be sober. But you know what bots are like on this ship sir… any excuse for some gossip and they run with it."

Bumblebee explained, trying not to let his faceplate heat up.

He knew Optimus was a fairly easy-going mech outside of the situations where he had to act first and foremost as Prime. But it still felt odd and a little embarrassing to discuss his uncharacteristic drunken misdemeanour with the figure he admired and followed. At least, he consoled himself, he wasn't technically lying to Optimus about what the twins had done… he just wasn't elaborating on the truth.

Prime appeared pleased enough with his answer though, nodding and seeming to relax when neither of them had really noticed he was tense.

"I'm glad to hear that. I didn't really think they would have stepped that far out of line, but I had to ask. Especially since I'm aware that you are no longer 'available' as the humans say."

Bumblebee found his faceplate heating again. "You know I'm trying to keep that on the low don't you Optimus sir?"

The much larger mech chuckled and tapped the minibots helm lightly in a teasing gesture. "Don't worry Bumblebee, my lip-plates are sealed. It seems to be going well though, the three of you have been throwing each other looks like devious younglings for the past few joors."

The spy couldn't stop the silly grin from forming on his face.

"Yea, it is going well. Brawn and Gears sure know how to get their timing wrong though." He muttered with a sigh.

Optimus hummed in agreement, but his optics showed he was smiling beneath his mask. "Don't worry, you'll have an orn of off-duty time to enjoy with them once the mission is over. At least that's something to look forward to."

Bumblebee nodded and beamed up at his commander in appreciation. Optimus always had a knack for looking on the bright side.

"You're right, that does make me feel better. Thanks Prime, and don't worry, I won't let you down." the beetle said, much chipper than he had been during the meeting as they reached his quarters.

"Anytime Bumblebee. And you make sure to stay safe on that mission, you don't need to waste time in the Decepticon brig that you could be spending with my officers." the semi winked with another chuckle as Bumblebee nodded and colour rose to his faceplates as he ducked into his and Cliffjumper's shared room.

* * *

Three vehicles drove through the overcast morning chatting idly. The sight of a green Jeep, an F1 Ligier and a Volkswagen Beetle travelling together without any drivers no longer alarmed any humans. Those who weren't locals knew perfectly well they were in Autobot territory and usually hoped to catch a glimpse of such an odd convoy.

Thankfully though, most of the novelty had worn off over the earth years and the humans didn't bother or honk at the small party of alien robots.

They drove a fair way, heading for the coast, and the known location of the Decepticon base. It was midday by the time they reached an area inland enough from the shore that the ocean couldn't been seen unless you drove up onto the crest of a small rocky ridge. Here, the three did a thorough scan of the surrounding area to make sure they were not detected before they transformed.

"Alright, same drill as usual. Good luck Bee, guess I'll see you in 8 joors." The tracker said with a kind grin, patting the spy on the shoulder. Bumblebee nodded in acknowledgment, and with a quick "see ya" and a white noble's hand landing on his shoulder, the minibot disappeared into thin air.

"Now, I do hope you'll be keeping focus this time Bumblebee." Mirage said in a mock stern tone as they walked together, cloaked by the Ligier's electro-disruptor, entering the water.

"What do you mean 'this time'? Nothing went wrong last time I did this mission-" the beetle said, confused, before the blue and white mech's soft laugh cut him off.

" Ah, but this time, you have two certain someones I'm sure might threaten to distract your processor." he responded with a coy tone.

Bumblebee gave a small dismissive huff through his vents. "Oh, right, well don't worry 'Raj, unlike some mechs who get distracted from their job by thoughts of shiny green Jeeps, I'm confident I have quite enough self-control."

Mirage scoffed, the sound totally digital given that they were now under water and it would have sounded very strange if he'd tried to make the sound through his vents. "Ex _cuse_ me? Since when has Hound ever been shiny?"

Bumblebee couldn't help but laugh at that as a wry grin spread over his fellow espionage agent's face.

It seemed totally ironic to the yellow bot that Mirage was talking about the Twins, oblivious to the fact that it was two different mechs completely that were distracting his CPU lately. All the same, he would have to put all four of his recent lovers, serious or casual, out of his processor completely to focus on the task at servo.

They remained silent the rest of the journey along the sea-floor. Even though the cassetticons were the Decepticon's front line of espionage and scouting, that didn't mean that the 'Cons had no means of intruder detection when Soundwave's horde was downed. And these windows of opportunity to gather info from the enemy at close quarters were too precious to risk getting caught at, so the two agents kept their guard and stealth up as if watched by enemy optics every step of the way.

They reached the intake vent for the underwater bases 'gills'. If there was one redeeming quality of the Decepticons, it was that they were very resourceful. They'd converted one of their air cycling units into a filter and pump that could extract fresh air from the water around them, just like the way organic fish could do. The only flaw with their system was that the intake vents for the machine were huge and proved just the right kind of weak-spot in the thick hull for the minibot spy to penetrate their defences. The rush of water that passed through it tended to render the area unhospitable to alarms and sensors. Apparently, the Decepticons just assumed the Autobots wouldn't be bold enough to test the vents, but they had done so a long time ago and it remained their best entry point.

Once they had worked away a small vent panel, Bumblebee slipped in, activating the small magnetic field generators in his pedes to stop himself getting swept by the water towards the pump deeper into the vent.

"OK, see you in an orn. Good Luck Bee" the invisible noble whispered as he carefully and silently fixed the vent cover back on.

"Thanks." Was all the spy could quietly say in response before he got to work seeking the hatch that led from the water intake to the room where he could access the normal air vents.

The small move from the entry point to the main vents was one of the most risky parts of any infiltration, but Bumblebee had done it so many times now it didn't really faze him.

Finding the hatch, he put his hands flat to it's surface and stilled himself, waiting to detect any sound or movement that indicated the presence of Decepticons in the small maintenance room beyond.

Hearing and feeling nothing (which always took quite a lot of concentration given the rushing of water past his audios), he slowly worked on twisting the release mechanism until the hatch came loose from it's sealed position.

Still wary of detection, the spy carefully pushed open the heavy slab of metal until he could fit his helm and shoulders through.

There was a large collar of metal surrounding the hatch that caught any overflow of water from the intake pipe when it was opened, and it provided Bumblebee with the perfect cover to carefully scan the room.

To his relief, he noticed the single camera that swivelled to observe the long narrow room had been damaged by corrosion and was fixed pointing down the other end from him.

Having established the coast was clear, the yellow minibot silently lifted himself out of the water intake and closed the hatch behind him.

Extracting a small, super absorbent cloth from subspace, he quickly wiped all the excess water off his frame before dropping down from the top of the vent and heading swiftly and silently towards his next entry point.

Wheeljack had designed the super-towel for this mission type specifically, as Bumblebee had noted a confused constructicon had once come into the room right after he'd gotten into a vent and nearly discovered him, wondering at the puddles of water he'd trailed across the floor. Thankfully, Longhaul was rather dim and had simply shrugged it off. But Bumblebee was sure that if it had been Scrapper or Hook, his cover and the whole recurrent operation would have been blown.

Once Bumblebee had gotten into the vent system, he relaxed a little. Only the cassettes could fit in and patrol the vents, and with all of them down, Bumblebee was assured that if he was quiet, he would remain undetected.

With a soft sigh, the yellow spy moved off to start his rounds. He would be travelling to different parts of the ship on a route he'd established several missions ago.

He never wanted to return to the Ark with bad news from these infiltrations, but he couldn't help hoping he'd at least get some excitement this time around.

* * *

Bumblebee sat in a vent over the planning room, leaning against the wall of the small metal chute, feeling unbearably bored.

He knew the Decepticons were somewhat dull on a personal level, but _Primus_ what had gotten into them? NOTHING was going on. Megatrons few attack or raid plans had been feeble and he'd dismissed them and many other poor suggestions from his crew. Apparently they weren't in any urgent need of energon just yet, able to formulate a steady supply of a bland version of the fuel harnessing the energy from nearby under-water geysers.

However much they wanted some 'real' energon, no opportunities to steal some were presenting themselves currently.

What was more, Bumblebee's usual source of entertainment seemed to have dried up as well. None of the Stunticons were pranking the Combaticons, none of the Combaticons were stealing from other crew mates and getting caught out, none of the Constructicons were designing any wild or crazy new contraptions for Bumblebee to file for report or sabotage (unless you counted trying to make it so the ship's energon dispensers stopped clogging as something important or interesting ). And Starscream wasn't even whining or moaning to Megatron until the warlord gave him a good smack across the helm like he usually did.

In fact, the seekers seemed the quietest on the ship… except for the third joor there when Skywarp had gotten overcharged on some of Starscream's private stash of high grade and gone around warping into other mechs rooms while they recharged yelling 'BOO! I'M A SQUISHY!' before cackling and warping out again.

But that had been about the only interesting thing to happen in the whole 5 joors Bumblebee had spent crawling through the cramped air vents.

He couldn't count the number of times he'd been sorely tempted to call Mirage and Hound on the emergency frequency just to have someone to talk to for a cycle or two.

He sighed softly thinking about them.

They were probably having a pretty good time of it out there. Sleeping under the stars, talking about whatever those two talked about, playing some of those tower games the Ligier had taught the tracker at Hound's own insistence. Even though they couldn't leave the area, at least they weren't alone.

Bumblebee felt rather pleased with himself for being able to remain professional and not let his meta wander ceaselessly to Jazz and Prowl, but in the quieter periods he had NEEDED to think about them just to keep himself sane.

He did his best to keep the thoughts chaste, but that too was very difficult… especially given that if he were still on the Ark and still single and felt THIS bored he'd usually sneak into a nice private hidey hole and do some self interfacing.

He couldn't help the wicked grin that crossed his faceplate. Oh, those days were probably over… if he were ever that bored, he was sure either Jazz or Prowl would want to know about it, given he'd jump at a chance to relieve _their_ 'boredom' anytime.

Bumblebee cycled a long draught of air slowly as his grin faded and optics dimmed. He couldn't think about this, he couldn't afford to let his circuits heat up. He had a better chance of remaining undetected if he kept his temperature low and his cooling fans _off._ Which meant no naughty thoughts.

He nearly groaned out loud. How could he NOT have naughty thoughts after the last 'briefing' he'd received in Jazz's quarters?

Jazz had _cuffed_ him the moment he'd walked into the room. Then he and Prowl had proceeded to take him through a torture scenario, except that pleasure was the fill in for pain. Bumblebee was sure the resulting overload was equivalent to him being tortured into deactivation.

But _Primus_ how could they do that? It was pure evil to let him have a taste of being helpless to them both right before he had to spend an orn in solitary silence behind enemy lines.

But if the spy was in that position again, he knew he would say yes. He was beyond happy to have two mechs giving him a going away present like that. And at least even a fleeting thought of it cheered him up and drove away a little of the loneliness.

Deciding there was little to be gaining waiting for anything to happen in the Decepticon planning room, Bumblebee moved on to do another round of the command deck and quarters.

He crawled and ducked and slid and climbed silently, using the magnetic fields in his pedes to help him grip the smooth metal on the difficult climbing areas.

The first port of call was the main console room, and coming to rest at a slatted vent outlet, Bumblebee was pleased to find Megatron, Starscream and Astrotrain hanging around.

Settling into a comfortable position, Bumblebee lay low and boosted his audio reception, listening intently to the low toned conversation below him. Usually it was only ever the quieter conversation that were worth overhearing.

"Well, since they failed so miserably, we'll just have to act on the information we got before they could make an in depth investigation. The question is, what's the best way to get them here, and _who_ do we choose to bring?" Astrotrain was saying in a disgruntled manner.

"Well the _who_ should be painfully obvious. It should be two more seeker trines." Starscream replied matter of factly, with a strong hint of irritation.

Megatron gave a soft rumble. "Use your processor, Starscream. Any troops we bring down will be extra mouths to feed. Soundwave has already suggested a team of front-liners, they require less energy and swell the ranks against our primarily ground based foes" The Decepticon leader informed his SIC with a challenging disdain.

Bumblebee couldn't see Starscream's face, as he was nearly below him and his back was to the vent, but the seeker's wings quivered in what was clearly barely suppressed anger.

"Soundwave doesn't take into account the fact that while we seekers require more energon, we burn it more efficiently, and we never waste it, unlike the unruly ground troops that, as you know, are prone to overcharging on a whim, merrily wasting energon like it comes from some spring eternal! Apart from that, more aerial support will be a stronger tactical advantage against the Autobots than a few frontline ground drones."

Starscream said calmly, posture indicating he was very pleased with himself over his argument. Despite the fact Bumblebee was silently pointing out that Skywarp had gotten overcharged for no reason only the other day, but apparently either it hadn't been reported or Skywarp was some kind of special exception and the leader knew it.

Megatron rubbed a forefinger slowly under his chin in thought, his expression neutral.

Astrotrain decided this was his cue to stick his two credits in.

"One more Triple changer would be even more of an asset. It would easily do the work of one trine and require a little less energy."

Starscream gave a soft titter. "Less energy perhaps, but a great deal more sanity programming buffers to tolerate on base."

Astrotrain scowled, but Megatron gave a soft chuckle. "While I admit there is some truth to that, it does seem more logical to supplement one mech for three if they can do the job and require less physical resources. Both of you submit your recommendations to me in the next joor and I shall weigh up the options and choose the additions myself. Dismissed."

Astrotrain nodded and left. Starscream seemed to hesitate, as if to say something more, but decided against it an astrosecond later and also left with a short sharp nod.

_Well well, finally, some useful information. So they_ _'re planning to bring more troops down from Cybertron, but why?_

The small yellow spy decided to follow Starscream, knowing how the air commander liked to rant to himself or his trine mates, often clueing Bumblebee into things going on with Decepticon command that were otherwise un-elaborated within meetings or half-heard conversations like the one he had just recorded.

It didn't take long, silently shadowing the red and white jet through the corridor ventilation system, to determine he was heading for the Seeker common area.

Bumblebee took a shortcut and beat him there by half a klik. When Starscream opened the door, he was already muttering discontentedly to himself.

The only other occupant in the room, Skywarp, seemed completely unfazed by his commanders bitter, audible monologue.

"Fragging _triple changer!_ Doing the job of a trine, I think not! Halfwits have most of their processor space taken up accommodating their second alt. mode. They can't take orders, they bungle the simplest of tasks, they have no tact, how in the _pit_ are they in any way as effective as a whole trine?"

" 'Sup Screamer." Skywarp said nonchalantly, not taking his optics off the data pad he was perusing.

Starscream gave him a withering look that went ignored.

"The usual. Megatron allowing himself to be swayed by idiots, resulting in choices we will all have to suffer. The failure of Soundwave's stupid minions, this general apathy towards energy raids of late. Take your pick." The red and white jet snarled, pacing the room slowly. Skywarp gave a sort of half committed shrug.

"If you're bored, you could look at these old vid-captures of our first air-raids on the Autobots cities with me."

Starscream shook his head, but his anger seemed to ebb away slightly. Bumblebee felt himself absorb some of it. It never really surprised him when the 'Cons showed their disgustingly sadistic nature even in their spare time. But honestly, Autobots never reminisced over destruction they caused to Decepticon bases with pictures. Sure, there were war stories, and the Twins loved to recount their sessions of jet judo proudly to anybody who'd listen, but they never revelled in the memories of violence like Decepticons did. The violence was the necessary thing that they would all rather do without. Not some wonderful treat to savour.

Calming himself with professional focus, the spy listened intently again to the seekers below.

"As much as I would like to, there is actual work to be done. Where is Thundercracker? I need his opinion on suitable trines to apply to have transferred to earth." Starscream said haughtily, his usual arrogant swagger filling in where his anger had been.

Skywarp finally looked up from his data pad, frowning. "What, you're not gonna ask me for my opinion?"

Starscream levelled a cool, aloof look at his trine mate. "Do you have one?"

The black and purple seeker's faceplate went blank for a few astroseconds. "Oh. Well… no, guess not." He shrugged, and returned to his data pad, adding as an afterthought, "He's on Patrol, but he'll be back in a few kliks."

Starscream ex-vented loudly in exasperation and stalked the room once more, occasionally muttering to himself in anger about Megatrons failings as a leader.

"So what about that other thing." Skywarp piped up after a few more kliks, finally shutting off his data pad and stretching his arms up to sling them nonchalantly over his shoulder vents, digits lacing behind his helm.

Starscream gave a long suffering, soft groan, pinching the bridge of his olfactory ridge and ceasing his pacing.

"Specificity, Skywarp. We've talked about this…"

Skywarp merely cocked his head as if rolling his optics, sliding further down in his seat. "You _know_ , your other plans, something to do with those puny Autoberks. I thought we were supposed to be luring them out and messing with them, but you haven't said anything about it for a few joors. If you just opened your side of the trine link more often that would be all the specit-… speficit-… you'd just know what I was talking about!"

At this, Starscream threw him a cold look that Skywarp actually took note of, almost seeming… hurt.

The moment passed and Starscream's expression became neutral, his pacing starting up again.

"I do not wish to act on that plan until I have more information on the status of the Autobots in question. For that I need those stupid cassettes. I would be finalising the plan right now if they hadn't failed their last mission so spectacularly." The trine leader growled.

Skywarp smirked. "Heh. Any word from Soundwave on how their repairs are coming? I'm NEVER letting Rumble live down having both his arms ripped off by Brawn."

"Of course there's no word, I haven't even seen him outside of his lab in 2 joors, and he generally doesn't spare anyone but Megatron a word unless it's one of scorn." Starscream replied disdainfully.

Up in his hiding place, Bumblebee was frowning, doing his best to keep his optics dim. He wished the trine leader would elaborate on his apparent plans, they sounded vindictive… targeting specific autobots, but which ones? Why? When?

It irked Bumblebee to know he probably wouldn't find out on this mission, if Starscream was counting on the cassettes. By the time they were up and about, he'd have to be out of there, so he wouldn't hear the progression of the plan. He cursed inwardly, realising a bug would be perfect right about now, but they couldn't use those anymore because the Decepticons had become too adept at detecting them.

The spy and two jets were distracted by the whooshing sound of the door opening, and in strode Thundercracker, wearing his customary grimace.

"Ah, about time. I need to speak with you about-"

Thundercracker cut his trine leader off with a deep gravely groan, wings and shoulders slumping and grimace deepening to a scowl.

"Whatever it is, can't it wait? I just wanna crash out and recharge for at least a couple of cycles. Fraggin coverin' those stupid cassettes shifts, had to go and get 'emselves slagged up by pit slaggin' Autobots, leave the rest of us to pick up their slack…"

Starscream bristled, mouth thinning and optics flaring dangerously, his servos going to his hip plates as Thundercracker made to stalk off to his quarters. "Quit your whining! Primus, you giant sparkling, I need your opinion on suitable seeker trines for possible transfer here from Cybertron. And I need it _now._ "

Bumblebee snickered silently to himself above their helms as Thundercracker, looking so morose and bitter he was very nearly pouting, stomped over to flop down and talk with his trine leader.

_I wonder if they know how much they look like sparklings arguing like that. I_ _'ll have to pass this on to Sunny and Sides, they'll love this…_

The spy had to stop himself from letting his processor run away with thoughts about the Twins. He really did have to concentrate, the seekers below were conversing in quieter tones again and he had to make sure he caught all the designations mentioned in case they had data on any potential new threats joining Megatron's earth-bound ranks back at the Ark.

It was a good five breems of debating before Starscream settled on choices based on the resignedly tired but compliant Thundercracker's suggestions. When the deep blue jet wandered off to his recharge chambers, the minibot hung around for a few more kliks, waiting to see if Skywarp started up the conversation about Starscream's other plans again, but unfortunately he seemed to have engrossed himself in a game on his data pad, and the air commander was at the main computer terminal writing up his recommendations.

Seeing there was no use sticking around the seekers, Bumblebee decided to act on something Starscream had said. It wasn't unusual for Soundwave to devote several hours at a time to fixing his creations. But not being seen for joors at a time (and reviewing his own databanks, he couldn't remember seeing him for a while either), that was a little worrying. Either he was working double time both fixing the cassettes _and_ working on something for Megatron, or he was spending more time than usual on just his four charges.

The latter was a very concerning prospect. It meant that calculations and known figures could be thrown out of their normal margins, and if he worked harder or faster for whatever reason, and the cassettes were back on line before Bumblebee was gone, well…

At least he'd finally be using the emergency frequency that had so tempted him over the past few days, but the circumstances would be a little worse than just him being bored.

The yellow minibot crawled silently through the vents, sliding on specially friction retardant coated plates on his knee joints and the undersides of his forearms.

_Primus what would I do without these little genius additions from Wheeljack?_

He kept his audios on their most sensitive setting and his systems running at their quietest. Even if a loud noise caught him off guard, he had the reflexes to lock his joints rather than jump when startled, and the focus to filter out any frequencies that weren't of interest.

He had to be especially careful approaching anywhere _near_ Soundwaves lab, and that's exactly where he was going.

He could never actually get to the vents inside the room itself… there was high security even in the shafts that crossed through the wall's perimeters. Security sensors recognised the cassettes, but if he passed through them, he would be trapped and very likely discovered.

Instead, once he reached the room, he would have another long stakeout waiting for a chance to see inside or get word near the doors.

Bumblebee finally came to the shaft that ran the length of the corridor where Soundwave's lab was located. He shuffled along, more than whisper quiet, disregarding (and keeping his distance from it as much as possible) the shaft that led to the left into the room, and continued until he reached a spot right above the doors.

Here, the nemesis had suffered some very minor damage. There was a tiny crack running all the way from the door-frame up to the ceiling, and given that the vents were inbuilt into the nemesis' hull plating, the crack ran through it too.

The yellow spy smirked to himself. The 'Cons corner-cutting and resource skimping was the reason he had a nice little audio opening to the otherwise impenetrable lab. If they paid better attention to detail when building their ship, they could have easily spy proofed many important rooms.

Bumblebee supposed he should be thankful the Decepticons overlooked such things, or his job would just be that much harder. _Not like it's a walk in the park anyway, but at least it's easier to be efficient…_

The minibot ended up settling in for a long time.

No mechs came or went, and the only sounds to be heard through the crack in the wall were the tinkling of tools and metal being shifted and worked. It was rather unfortunate that Soundwave didn't have any quirks like speaking to himself or some other means of giving away his actions, so the spy had no idea if the communications expert was building something new or fixing his little minions. Although he did make one or two frustrated sounding rumbles, even in the privacy of his somewhat soundproofed lab he didn't tend to give away his emotional state.

Bumblebee had no illusions as he once did about the mystical mystery mech that was Soundwave. He had learned from careful observation and witnessing much of the mech's alone time that in essence, Soundwave had simply mastered the art of being anal retentive and… quite frankly he was a complete geek.

Even more so than any of the Autobot scientists. At least they had genuine personalities and at least socialised with each other.

But Soundwave… he seemed all consumed with the art of hermitage and disciplining himself. He wore it like some kind of badge of honour, but as far as Bumblebee could see, only non-observant or dim mechs actually saw him as the alluring mysterious mech… everyone else was well aware he just had an unhealthy fondness for being controlled and aloof and used this front to hide his reasonable strength and intelligence so he could make it more of a surprise when he used it.

Some Autobots still did fall into the trap of underestimating him, but for the most part there was always somebody in the know who kept an optic on him in battle. For all Soundwaves social failings, the minibot couldn't deny he had an exceptionally cunning processor and used it at all times to his advantage.

All the same, none of this knowledge was helping the minibot right now.

It had been eight cycles. His joints felt stiff and it was getting harder and harder to keep his concentration.

Many mechs thought the hardest part of his job was keeping quiet and making sure he got all the important information without getting caught. Most outside of the espionage and sniper divisions though had no idea that it was the times waiting between notable events that were the hardest on a spy.

Right now, the minibot was using all his professional focus to remain on task.

He would not look away from that crack. Light change through it would tell him if the door opened if he happened to miss the sound of it. The crack was too thin to see through, which was probably why it had been there for earth years. The 'Cons probably hadn't even noticed it, or thought it not worth wasting energy to re-weld.

The spy's sensitively tuned up audios were buzzing with a constant static that became harder to filter out the longer he sat without any noises.

His sensors were on edge. Soundwave had gotten quieter and quieter in his tinkering, and Bumblebee wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. He wanted to go and scope out more information, chase up Astrotrain and see who he was thinking about bringing to earth. See if Megatron was doing his own research despite what he'd told his officers (it wasn't uncommon for the leader to do this). But he couldn't go ahead with anything until he was sure the situation with the cassetticons was still consistent with normal timing calculations.

The minibot frowned, hating stalemates like this.

_It usually gets quieter when he comes to components nearing a project_ _'s completion… but he likes having all his cassettes fixed and online again at the same time, so he never finishes one before the others… it's gotta be a different project, no way could he have them all up and running by now, even working three joors solid. He's too fussy about their repairs to have done the job to his liking that quickly…_

Bumblebee daren't even sigh in frustration. He tried to relax a little. His conclusions should be right… his logic chip wasn't protesting his deductions, but… his instincts were nagging. And he was loathe to ignore them, _ever._

He smiled faintly to himself. _I wonder if Prowl ever goes with instinct instead of his battle computer… I'll have to ask… UGH, no, I need to FOCUS._

He shook his head the tiniest bit and made up his processor.

He would continue his fact finding around the Decepticon transfers, do another check of their energon supplies to judge if they might be raiding soon, then come back and check on Soundwave again before catching a few breems of standby recharge.

His plan for the next few cycles lain out in his CPU, the beetle moved off, heading back towards the shafts leading to fliers quarters.

He was half-way to the triple changer's room, thinking about how he would have to hack the huge mech's console to get a copy of the recommendation he'd likely have written by now, when something made him stop.

At first, he wasn't quite sure what it was. He had just carefully passed over a drop-shaft that was built into a wall to carry airflow down to floor level vents… these were annoying, and often air would eddy up through them and trigger the spy's hightened sensors, but this time… it was different. There had been no eddy. The airflow was consistent… well, it was now.

Wait… had someone just turned on the fan flow? But the air wasn't all that stale, why would they…

The minibot's sensors buzzed again like a static wand had been passed over them.

_That air is funnelling past me back towards_ _…_

Bumblebee felt a shiver of cold fear pass through his spark.

Scent… even at his quietest he couldn't stop himself leaving at least the faintest traces of his own alloy and joint lubricant everywhere. Smells so hard to pick up you had to have olfactory sensors tailored to detect them.

Sensors that prevented him from remaining undetected on the nemesis most of the time…

Sensors only one Decepticon owned.

_No… no fragging way, that crafty son of a glitch did NOT just change his pattern and bring ONE online before the oth-_

All of Bumblebee's thought processes ceased the moment he caught the most distant, most distinct sound… one that now flooded his spark with loathing and dread.

The barest hint of a low, rumbling growl, reached his audios.

_FRAG IT!_

* * *

"Hey Jazz, have you seen Bumblebee around today?"

The saboteur turned at the call, recognising Sideswipe's fake innocent tone. _Now what's he planning?_

"Ain'tcha heard mech, he went on a mission this morning."

Sideswipe's faceplate fell, genuine looking disappointment crossing his features for a moment. "What? What time of joor is he gonna be back?"

Jazz gave the red twin a curious look, gaze darting to Sunstreaker, who was beside his brother, seemingly uninterested in the conversation but engrossed in a data pad.

"Ain't gonna be back for a while, it's a dig in." Jazz replied casually, very interested to note the concerned look that crossed not only Sideswipe's upturned features, but also Sunstreakers half hidden ones.

"So he's going to be gone for a whole Orn?"

"Yep, unless somethin' goes wrong, but I wouldn't be hoping for that. Why the long faceplates? You thinkin' of proposing to 'im in the rec. room at mid joor or somethin'?"

The Twins identical deadpan frowns made Jazz laugh.

"For your information, we were planning some payback for that last hilarious trick you helped him pull on us." Sunstreaker intoned coolly, giving Jazz a shaded glance from beneath the rim of his helm.

Jazz crossed his arms and cocked his head with a crooked grin.

"And ya tellin' this ta me? Ain't you afraid I'll just warn him when he gets back?"

Both twins smirked at that, and it was times like this when they had a common goal that their shared spark was most noticeable despite their frame differences.

"Well not since we have to change our plans now, and we've got a whole ORN to figure out something nice for him. It's not too late for you Jazz, we'll grant you an exit pass from this prank war despite your last involvement if you promise not to breathe a word to Bee." Sideswipe offered smoothly, waggling his orbital ridges as if to sweeten the deal.

Jazz made a show of consideration, knowing he'd probably get in trouble from his small new lover for allowing these two hellions their retaliation without warning, but… well, Bumblebee always stipulated he was not a sparkling, and he knew full well how the Twins prank wars worked… apart from that, Jazz supposed the minibot might just dish him out some interesting punishment in return for keeping his silence, and _that_ was rather appealing.

"Alright, I'll keep my trap shut. Just promise me you'll leave his honour intact after all this… dignity is another matter, but the gossip around here is getting ridiculous."

Both twins raised their right servos with wicked grins and sparkling optics. "Mechs honour, we shall only attack his dignity."

* * *

"Sunnyyyyyyy."

"…"

"…Sssssssuuuuuuuunnnnn."

"…"

"…Sunshiiiiine!"

A growl and warning glare finally met the red Twin's grinning faceplates as he sat across from his brother at a table in the rec. room. The golden warriors least favourite nickname usually worked like that.

Sideswipe propped his head on his palms, elbows on the tabletop.

"Soooo what are we going to do as a welcome back present for Bee? It's been 4 joors and we still haven't worked out a new plan."

Sunstreaker huffed nonchalantly and looked back down at his data pad, continuing his doodling. "I dunno, what do we usually do when we aren't attacking a bot's honour?"

Sideswipe huffed a little, optics unfocusing slightly as he processed.

"Well… we don't make a comment on how they 'face"

"Nothing derogatory to say there anyway." The Golden twin mumbled with a slight wicked grin.

"True. We don't insinuate they have kinks or leave any toys around and make it look like it's theirs… Though I wonder if he actually _does_ have any…"

The red twin's words made Sunstreaker's wicked grin even wider, but he continued to remain engrossed in his drawing.

"And we certainly don't make them out to be floozy berth hoppers. So that leaves us wiiiith…" Sideswipe petered out with a slight frown, his brother apparently too distracted with what he was drawing to be drawn into the conversation again.

There was silence for a few moments while Sideswipe waited to see if Sunstreaker was just thinking. But he quickly lost patience.

"Hey… Sun, have you seen that?"

"What?" come an irate grumble.

"That scratch on the side of your shoulder armour."

"What?"

Sideswipe struck like a cobra as soon as his twin's helm had snapped around to his own shoulder. He snatched the data pad and danced up out of his seat before his growling golden twin could recognise the ruse for what it was. Surprisingly though, Sunstreaker remained sitting, glaring in annoyance at his brother, who was now perusing the data pad images curiously.

Sideswipe's orbital ridges got higher the more sketches he looked through. The golden twin, while reluctant to show off his works to the Ark on the whole, had never minded Sideswipe seeing them at all.

Not even in this case.

"Err… is there something you're not telling me Sun? I mean… I felt something weird whenever we've seen him the past few days, but _seriously?_ You've got it _this_ bad? I would never have picked him as your type."

"If you MUST know, it's all Bumblebee's fault. Ever since he mentioned that little mental list of his, I haven't been able to get that damn mech out of my head. I started looking at him in _that_ way and… couldn't stop." The golden twin ground out, nose ridge held high, looking as cool and uncaring as possible, but his spark was telling Sideswipe how he was really feeling. And the low burning lust was starting to bubble to the surface.

A sly smile slid onto Sideswipe's faceplate as he looked back down at the drawings, flicking through them again. "This why you haven't been bothered to help me think of a prank for Bee then?… You could have just told me."

"I just did. Images are easier than words."

Sideswipe held the pad at an odd angle and cocked an orbital ridge lightly. "I dunno, this position doesn't look easy to work."

"You saying you're up for trying it?" Sunstreaker asked, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to straighten his eager expression.

Sideswipe snorted, scanning the data pad carefully, optics deepening in colour. "You have to ask? The question is, will HE be up for it?"

The golden mech's faceplate was split with a wide, wicked grin once more. "Well, that's where the pictures come in."

"Alright then, let's do this. But you have to promise me we'll concentrate on the prank for Bee when you get this out of your system." the red toughliner said, handing his brother back the data pad as the gold mech stood.

Sunstreaker waved a servo carelessly. "Oh I already know what to do, I've just been messing with you making you use your processor. It's fun to watch."

None of the few mechs in the room paid the pair any attention as a small helm smacking match broke out ending up in a laughing Sunstreaker pelting out of the room with a growling Sideswipe on his heels.

* * *

"Mmmmm, Hound, _please…_ I know it's tempting, but we'll have plenty of time once the mission is _over…_ *gasp* at least think of Bumblebee!"

That drew a chuckle from the green tracker, who relinquished his ministrations on the noble's spoiler momentarily.

"Aw now that's not gonna help any… not given the word that's been goin' around about him and the Twins." His engine gave a playful rev, but as Mirage huffed and swatted him lightly he pulled back and pecked the noble's cheek arch affectionately.

"I wouldn't believe everything you hear, Hound." He stated dismissively, settling into the warmth of the large green frame, content at least to cuddle even though he'd liked to have done more. Even if they risked flouting protocol, their energon rations weren't sufficient enough for such activities anyway.

"Oh, but I don't. Not when I have my own personal verifier to ask. And I KNOW you know what the real deal is there, so are you gonna spill? Or am I gonna have to employ some… persuasive techniques, to get the information from you, my lovely spy…"

Hound's optics smouldered as he traced a curved blue helm vent. The ligier gave a soft 'tch' and settled in with a poke to one of the jeep's sensitive spots.

"You mean interrogate, not persuade. And a proper spy never breaks under pressure. Not even the good kind. Plus it's not my place. If you want to know, you can go ahead and ask Bee or the Twins yourself."

"Aaaaaw, you're no fun." Hound mock pouted, flicking one of the blue and white armour panels on the noble's shoulder, but nuzzling into him all the same.

"If that were true, you wouldn't still be with me." Mirage teased lightly, lying them down to look at the stars.

They were silent for a while, just enjoying the darkness, their closeness, the peace, the sound of the waves over the crest of the hill and the multitude of stars visible to them so far from human light pollution.

"So, you can't give me _anything?_ Not even a hint?"

Mirage sighed through his vents at the sweetly voiced wheedling.

"If I told you there was an off lining pact between special ops agents about revealing this kind of information, would that stop you asking?"

Hound grinned wickedly, the expression visible by the glow of just their optics.

"Well, if you're THAT keen to not tell me, it musta been something' serious between 'em. And you know, I never picked Bumblebee for the sort-"

Hounds sly remark was cut off by a sudden burst of static in both their comm. Links.

Neither missed the fact it was on their emergency frequencies.

_***crackle*** _ **High-gro- *** _**zzzt*** _ **igh-ground, come in, this is Sti-** _***chhhhhttt*** _ **-peat, this is** _**stinger,** _ **code black, code black, Op is compromised, bailing out immedia- *** _**vvvzzzzt*** _ **-xit route delta, repeat, initiating exit route Delta, please copy!**

The Tracker and Spy exchanged alarmed looks before Mirage jumped to his pedes and rifled through their supplies for the necessary equipment.

**Agent Stinger this is High-ground, repeat, this is High-ground, message received, we** **'re initiating exit route strategy Delta, keep us posted, repeat, keep us posted, over.**

"Here, explosives, go go go!"

Hound unearthed the charges and Mirage caught them deftly before running towards the sea, his pump suddenly racing. He initiated his electro-disruptor before cresting the hill and making for the surf as stealthily as possible.

_Primus, code black? How in the pit did that happen!_

* * *

Bumblebee raced through the shafts trying to outmanoeuvre ravage, stay silent AND make his way to the Delta exit point, which was all the way over the other side of the ship, but he had no choice… the cassetticon was between him and exit route alpha, or he'd be able to get himself out and simply meet Mirage to get some backup fire while escaping, but this…

This was going to compromise the whole recurrent mission and he had no choice, it was an unmitigated disaster… and he hadn't even escaped yet.

He heard another echoing snarl through the shafts and tried very hard not to ex-vent in fear. Ex-venting a lot right now would leave more of his scent. He needed to stay calm, quiet, quick, and above all cool. He flooded his extra stores of coolant through his systems, enabling him to keep his ventilations reduced as he worked his locomotive motors overtime.

His audio receptors were his only help right now. Ravage had scan blockers and detectors, so looking for him that way would be as good as beeping his horn to tell the turbo-cat where he was. His motion sensors couldn't do much while he moved, and the black and grey menace had dampeners on his pede-pads anyway. And sight wise, there wasn't much he could see in the narrow ventilation systems really, so he onlined the audio reception boosters in his horns and kept moving.

_Primus, I have to be over the main quarters deck by now, possibly over the med-bay, frag I have to check, I can_ _'t run blind…_

Stopping momentarily in his frantic crawling, Bumblebee peeked out of a slatted vent to figure out where he was. It was an indistinguishable hallway, and the beetle had to bite his glossa to stop himself swearing in frustration.

He flared his audios, picking up murmuring, the sound of some generators and online electrical hubs, some heavy body movement, but nothing that indicated Ravage's position.

Cursing in his processor to rival even Ratchet, the spy moved on fast.

_I_ _'ll have to confuse the slagger by doubling back, and that will waste time, but if I take him by the exit tower station, I might shake him…_

Bumblebee slipped around corners and climbed a few tricky shafts in record time.

He'd done plenty of simulation drills in the Ark for Code Black, but he'd never had to even initiate anything higher than a code blue exit, and that had been because of repair work by constructicons that had nearly blown his operation three earth years ago.

In truth, he tried to console himself, this wasn't even a worst case scenario. THAT would involve ALL of the cassetticons being online with him still entrenched…

Bumblebee paused midway through a shaft intersection. His instincts told him to duck back into his original shaft before his audio sensors picked anything up, but when he stilled…

A faint voice could be heard, growing stronger, and the echo told him immediately it wasn't coming from outside. But the pitch of the voice also told him that…

"…tryin' ta tell 'im he's paranoid, but will _he_ listen to reason? Noooo, rather send _us_ out to do the hard work before we're even _fixed_ properly. Should check his circuits, mech's glitchin', I swear…"

Rumble's self-serving griping faded as he passed down a parallel shaft, and Bumblebee struggled to keep his fuel pump from whining in protest at working harder than strictly necessary from the stress.

_Damnit I just COULDN_ _'T keep the thought in, could I? 'Oh yea, at least it's only Ravage' , Primus FRAGGIT!_

The yellow mech forced himself to calm by focussing. He crept forward again, continuing with his plan, but now a little slower, extra quiet, and extra on edge for any more cassettes that could be roaming the ventilation system searching for him.

Looking back on this mission, he would later believe he had never performed a finer feat of stealth in his whole life stream. He narrowly avoided an encounter with Frenzy, snuck right past a vent through which he could see Buzzsaw doing a sweep of the comm.s room, snuck right behind Lazerbeak and made it all the way to the elevator platform station without hearing more than whispers of Ravage on his trail.

He'd come by the long way to keep the turbo-cat guessing, and now he was at the decepticon bases main exit, he would lay a red herring that would hopefully make his journey to his real exit much less treacherous.

Swiftly, Bumblebee loosened the bolts on a vent with an electro-magnetic screwdriver (a gadget that was in fact courtesy of the architect Grapple), and opened it up a tiny bit.

The only 'Con in the room, Dirge, was recharging at his station. It was easy enough for Bumblebee to pull a phial of his own joint lubricant from subspace, flick it across the ground in the direction he'd take if he were trying to sneak across the room, and pull back into the vent, loosely replacing it on it's screws as if he'd done a hurried job of covering his trail.

This done he re-sub-spaced the phial, dragged his digits over a cloth in his subspace pocket to make sure they were clean, and continued on down the shaft, holding his vents all the way until he rounded the corner.

 **High-ground, Stinger making a status report** , **repeat, Stinger making a status report, heading towards the crash site, please respond with estimation of rendezvous. I have glitch mice, repeat, I have glitch mice, hurrying is a really good idea, over.**

* * *

Mirage noted the reception was much clearer now he was nearing the decepticon's underwater base, but the content of the second transmission only gave him more to worry about. He cut through the water, staying low over the sea bed as his vents pumped water through him, helping to propel him as he swam with expert strokes.

**High-ground Air reporting, transmission received Stinger, rendezvous at crash site in as long as it takes to circle the mountain twice, doing the best I can, hold on, over!**

Mirage tried not to let the code word 'glitch-mice' worry him but… _Primus,_ Bumblebee was stuck in the heart of Decepticon territory with every cassette up and in pursuit! This was, without a doubt, the biggest special ops disaster in a while… he just prayed they could contain the damage by at least making a successful extraction.

Also, he hated to think what the twins might do to him if he didn't get Bumblebee out unharmed…

* * *

The beetle slid down a sloped shaft a little faster than he meant to and made the slightest squeal of metal on metal.

He stopped at the bottom, but hearing no reactive sounds like the thud of small metal pedes coming towards him, he continued on towards his destination.

_Slag, if Mirage is that far away, I_ _'m going to have to go the long way, I can't stop moving… I feint by the private quarters to make it look like I'm headed to the rear hull, then I can make a hairpin near the hub vents and go directly for the exit route, Mirage should be here by then._

Plan crystal clear and processor whirling through incoming signals and possible hazard assessments, Bumblebee didn't falter even a micromechanometer as he crawled onwards, now reaching the vents near the soldiers quarters.

He wasn't ever comfortable passing over private rooms, especially not now, during the off-cycle when most mechs were in their rooms amusing themselves, very likely to hear him if he faltered, their sounds making it harder for him to hear any followers. At least it narrowed his likely pursuers list back down to Ravage, none of the others bothered to patrol this area from their earliest bugging observations, because they all relied on sound as much as Bumblebee, except for the turbo-cat, who was unfazed by noise in his search.

The spy had to go a little slower to remain absolutely quiet passing above rooms and their various occupants.

He was just thinking of contacting Mirage to see where he was now when a certain voice caught his interest.

His instincts hated him for it, but he stopped by a vent to listen, automatically setting his internal recorder to catch the seeker rambling to himself.

Skywarp was in the room below, a room he used more as a storage area than recharge quarters (he often seemed happier to recharge in Thundercracker's room), and he was tossing something between his servos as he talked to… himself, apparently.

"Heh, ooooh the look on those Autobots faces is gonna be _priceless…_ When I get my servos on that fraggin' pointy headed one, mmmm, I'm gonna pound him into oblivion. And I'll make his little sweet-spark watch, and then I'll get to pound him too… _primus_ gets me worked up just thinking' about it, probably don't even need a cone tonight. Can't wait to rip into that black aft and make him _scream_ TC."

OK, so apparently he was talking out loud on a comm… not that Bumblebee couldn't say he'd never done it himself, but it was generally just to keep others around him in the loop of a conversation… Skywarp just liked the sound of himself.

The nagging in the back of Bumblebee's CPU got worse, but he _couldn't_ leave when he was so close to discovering that last vital piece of information on the Seeker's secret, targeted attack plan. They had a grudge, obviously, but 'pointy headed one' didn't really narrow it down enough. He could mean horns, antennae, chevrons… this was _Skywarp_ , and as Starscream had only chastised him earlier, being specific wasn't one of his strong-points.

Praying that his red-herring was buying him time, Bumblebee decided he need to know how long he had before he needed to make it to his exit point.

**High-Ground Air, this is Stinger, what's your ETA? I've come across a red balloon, I need to know if I have time to visit the party before going to the crash site. Repeat, I found a red balloo- AAAAAAGH!**

* * *

Mirage actually felt his whole body jerk at the sound that burst over the comm. line. Whatever it was, it had caused the minibot to cry out not just over the comm, but out loud as well… fear shot right through Mirage and he pushed himself hard to get there faster.

**B-Stinger! Stinger do you read me? Respond, status, Stinger come in, please, report status!**

No coherent words met Mirage's frenzied communication, but the line was left open and apart from static he could hear the sounds of a struggle, the minibot's cries of pain and rage, metal slamming against metal, scrabbling, and worst of all, _snarling…_

_Primus almighty the jig is up._

**BUMBLEBEE! RESPOND! STATUS, STATUS, I** **'M COMING TO GET YOU, HIT AND RUN! GET TO THE CRASH SITE!**

Mirage crested an underwater cliff-face, knowing the Nemesis was so near yet so not near enough given the situation. A sense of desperate relief flooded his spark when Bumblebee finally responded through the static, but it was tempered a moment later with desperate anxiety as he realised the voice was definitely not normal.

**Raj,** _**nnngh…** _ **Route… Delta…** _**Hurry…** _

* * *

Bumblebee had only heard it a nanoklik before he registered what it was, and by the time he'd spun around to face the oncoming ravage, it was too late.

The turbo-cat had gone into stealth mode and apparently been completely unfazed by his ruse.

The spy struggled momentarily to keep the claws and teeth from his neck and main energon lines, but in the enclosed space, the cassetticon slammed him against the grate with enough force to break it and send them both toppling down into the room below.

The fact that they had been directly over the berth didn't really help. Especially not when Skywarp, who had just exited the room before the commotion, had left his funny cone things scattered across it's surface.

Bumblebee cried out as he hit the berth with a clang and felt a sharp pain in his hip joint. Ravage let out a snarl associated with pain as well, but while Bumblebee rolled off the berth with a loud thud, the cat merely picked himself up from his crumpled heap and made ready to spring down onto the autobot, snarling even more viciously.

Bumblebee managed to roll out of the way and under the berth as the cat-bot sprang, but he yelped as another cone, which had been toppled to the floor from the initial fall, pierced into an exposed seam just under his shoulder.

_What the frag are those stupid things?_

The minibot didn't have time to wonder or look closer, as he had to throw up his servos to avoid another mauling from the turbo-cat.

His processor, normally sharp and clear when he was under attack from ravage, was suddenly shrouded in a haze of hot fuzz. Unable to identify the sensation, Bumblebee tried to concentrate on throwing off the clawing, snarling ravage while registering Mirage yelling into his comm. link.

A surge of blistering heat swept his frame and, with an unexpected growl from his own engine, Bumblebee threw ravage off him with an almighty effort and scrambled to his pedes.

The moment he made to run, he found out that something was _definitely_ wrong with his systems, as if all his plating had suddenly turned to lead.

The door whooshed open and Bumblebee raced out between a bewildered Skywarp's legs, rushing down the corridor and around the corner, answering Mirage as he dodged a belated and half-aimed shot from the black and purple seeker.

* * *

**Bumblebee, I** **'m coming up on the crash site, I'll be ready to rendezvous in a carwash, what's your status and estimated rendezvous time? Over.**

Mirage pushed his ventilations to work harder to pump water through his frame and propel him forward, arms nearly pin wheeling to keep perpetual forward motion as his legs kicked.

There was crackling and heavy ventilations on the other side of the line, and he could tell Bumblebee was running. There was a soft swear before transforming noises told him Bumblebee had changed to alt. mode. The minibot's voice crackled at him over the sound of a burst of laser fire.

**Can** **'t outrun them forever…** _**huhnnnn,** _ **I'll get there… get to the c-crash site… set down the law of physics… wait for me, I'll g*** _**cccht** _ *** I'll get there…**

**Copy that Bee, I'll be there.**

* * *

The yellow beetle, scratched from ravages attack and scorched from near misses aimed by stunned constructicons, zoomed down another hallway, trying as hard as he could to head to his destination, not get there too early, avoid getting caught AND fight the awful suffocating hot fuzz overcoming his systems.

_Gotta push through, gotta get out, can_ _'t get caught, have to keep goi- HOLY FRAG!_

Bumblebee came to a screeching halt and did a complete three-sixty before burning rubber down a side corridor, a surprised Astrotrain left standing dumbly at the door of his quarters.

Bumblebee didn't even check his mirrors to see if the triple changer followed. The heat was making it hard to concentrate on more than one thing at a time, and flooding his frame with the last of his extra coolant was only barely helping.

He skidded up onto two tires taking another corner too fast and fishtailed past Skywarp as the seeker teleported into the corridor an astrosecond too late.

Bumblebee felt another round of laser fire scorch his side as he tore around the corner at the end of the corridor, practically ramming into the legs of another decepticon. As it was, he only ran over Ramjet's pedes, making the conehead howl in pain and indignation.

Bumblebee's engine began to whine as he pushed it to keep propelling him at unsafe speeds around corners. Speed was his only ally right now, and if this weird heat cost him that, he was done for…

It was another hinge-biting few kliks before Mirage's controlled, firm voice filled his comm. Link while he zigzagged down a corridor avoiding laser fire from Thundercracker.

**Bumblebee I** **'m here and I'm writing down the law, where are you?**

**Coming Raj** **'! As soon as it's written, tell me… and do it fast, I'm out of time, we can't frag this up…**

* * *

The noble did the fastest charge set he was capable of, not at all liking the whining sound over the emergency frequency that he realised was Bumblebee's engine.

When everything was set, he ducked down invisible behind a large rock against the hull of the Nemesis.

**Law has been lain down Bee.**

**Se-et the example** **… NOW**

* * *

Bumblebee's cry of pain from Astrotrain's pot-shots was drowned out by the resounding boom of an explosion from around the corner.

Trying desperately to ignore the pain and energon leaking from his shoulder and side, Bumblebee, having Transformed when he gave the order to Mirage, threw himself against the wall and pumped power into the magnetic field generators on his hands and knees.

The Decepticons on his tail halted at the autobot's weird move and the strange rumbling sound… before turning and running as a wall of water gushed down the hallway from the hull breech.

Bumblebee hunkered down against the initial rush, waited until it was over his head completely, and then began crawling along the wall to the new exit. Exit Delta.

* * *

_Come ooon, Bee, come on_ _…_

Mirage clung invisibly to the side of the hole, magnetic fields stopping him from getting sucked in with the surrounding water. The comm. Frequency was useless in the rush of water, all he could do was wait and hope that the yellow minibot appeared so he could snatch him up and they could make their get away.

But this seemed to be taking an _age…_ and drill training had always stipulated, past two kliks, and he had to get out of there… it seemed cruel, and so against the autobot ways, to leave a mech behind, but in special ops… better to lose one spy than two, information was less compromised, and the success rate of a rescue attempt would be better if one of their best operatives was free to try and come back for the other later with backup.

One Klik passed, and still Mirage was waiting at the edge of the hole, the surrounding sea water roaring over his audio receptors as it filled the air void of the Nemesis' breech.

_Please, Bumblebee, come on_ _…_

The nano-kliks seemed to drag by, and yet it was almost as if that second klik was rushing to beat the minibot…

_20 astroseconds to go, PLEASE Bumblebee_ _…_

Mirage actually let out a small cry of relief as a black servo snapped around the edge of the hole.

He dove forward and grabbed the yellow mech's arm, helping to haul him out against the current and get him into the relative safety of his electro-disruptor's field.

His spark gave a painful pang as he noted the energon trailing thinly through the water behind the beetle, and his plating seemed warmer to the touch than should be normal, but never the less, the blue optics burned bright, and with a tense nod, Bumblebee kicked off the sea-bed and swam with the Ligier up towards the higher planes of the under-water strata.

By the time they reached the shore, Mirage was in a state. The more they travelled back to dry land, the worse Bumblebee got, and the blue and white mech couldn't figure out what was wrong.

When Mirage stepped up out of the water, he was carrying the nearly incoherent minibot in his arms.

_**HOUND!** _

The tracker ran up the ridge to meet the frantic call over his comm. Link, despite the fact it was against mission protocol to be breaking cover even now. Neither of them cared much given the situation. A Code Black was not a common occurrence.

"What the frag happened to him?" the green mech exclaimed as he caught sight of the damaged, quivering little spy in his lovers arms.

"I don't know, he comm'd something about 'Warp', 'berth' and 'cones' on our way back, but whatever is wrong it's not letting him process straight, and he's starting to overheat. Did you call Skyfire when I comm'd you?"

"Yea, and all the gear is packed, we need to leave, we're meeting Skyfire en-route, it'll be faster and safer if the 'Cons decide to come after us. Put him in my tray and let's get moving."

Hound transformed as he spoke and Mirage wasted no time in following his orders, setting the slightly writhing Bumblebee into his lovers back carry area as securely as he could before folding down into his F1 alt. mode and tearing off with the Jeep.

"I don't think the 'Cons will be too preoccupied with chasing us, they have enough to deal with given there's a large hole and flooded corridor on their base. How's he feeling to you?"

"Hot… _really_ hot… I think he's actually steaming, I can smell the burning ozone pretty bad… _primus_ what do you think happened? What did they do?"

"I don't know, but you heard our transmissions didn't you? It sounded to me like whatever happened, it was when ravage attacked him." Mirage replied, anxiety clear in his usually calm voice.

"C-cones…"

Both were a little stunned by Bumblebee actually replying to them.

"What do you mean Bee?" Hound asked warily, wondering if the poor bot's processors were being made to malfunction from the overheating.

"Cones… on the b-berth… fell on… after… felt…" The minibot's engine gave a tank churning whine and he whimpered, shuddering in hounds back tray.

"Don't try to talk Bee, just keep those vents running, Ratchet will sort you out, just hold on." Mirage tried to soothe the distressed beetle, praying that at any moment they'd hear the roar of Skyfire's turbines coming over the horizon.

* * *

"Hey Wheeljack!"

The last thing Sideswipe expected, when they strolled into the chief engineers workshop late in the cycle, was the irritated groan and slump of the Lancia's shoulder struts at his bench.

"NO, I will NOT mod up your rifles, I've already had half the base in here after Cliffjumper's little stunt with his, and Prowl has already banned me, like I needed the encouragement after everyone decided I'm the slagging weapons specialist around here. I design new stuff, I'm not here to be an arms maintenance bot! I admit, I did mess with specing up Cliff's rifle, and maybe I fiddled with the next two that came in but I don't have time to do any more and frankly I'm surprised bot's aren't afraid I'll frag up their recoils like I did with the first three! If you want your rifles working better just give them a good clean! No one on this ship seems able to just maintain their weapons properly, it's not my job. They'd work at twice their power if bots just _cleaned_ them once in a while! It's not THAT hard, basic training and all, and… what?"

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had sauntered up either side of the sitting engineer during his aggravated litany, and were both leaning with their backs to the bench top, smirking good-naturedly down at him.

Wheeljack looked between them, helm panels flashing an uncertain lime green. "Uuuh… you're still here." It wasn't quite a statement or a question, but it did make Sideswipe smile.

"Yep."

The confused engineer glanced between them again.

"And I'll have you know I keep my rifle in nearly as good a condition as myself" Sideswipe quipped jauntily.

A humph from his golden counterpart drew the Lancia's attention.

"I keep mine in just as good a condition as I keep myself." he said haughtily, looking down his nasal ridge at his brother.

Sideswipe snickered. "Well Bluestreak keeps his in BETTER condition than anyone or anything… so that must make him better looking than you if we're scaling by weapons."

Sunstreaker growled, but Wheeljack couldn't help a chuckle.

"So… I take it you're NOT here for that then? Sorry about offloading all that slag on you… been a long day… what was it you wanted?" The engineer apologised meekly, scrubbing a servo briefly over his optics in a very human mannerism.

In doing so though, he totally missed the predatory shift in both Lamborghinis expressions.

"Oh, we had a proposal for you." Sideswipe said smoothly.

Wheeljack looked up, half curious, half suspicious. "Oh? It wouldn't happen to be prank related, would it?" he asked dubiously, wondering if he just might say yes even if it was, just to get his own back on the multitude of mechs coming to him with their rifles expecting him to fix them when they weren't broken.

"Nope. It's more of a personal project, and we were hoping to work closely with you on it. Sunny has some sketches to give you an idea of what we were thinking."

The red twin gestured casually to his brother, who, with a coolness that perfectly fooled the engineer into believing the Twins actually COULD do something in all innocence, he drew a data pad out of subspace and handed it to the green and white mech between them.

It was at least four astroseconds before the engineer's helm panels flashed a bright, shocked and embarrassed pink.

The two Lamborghini brothers looked at one another with wicked grins as Wheeljack stiffened on his seat, winglets twitching. After a few more speechless moments, Sideswipe leant down and flicked to a particular sketch, noticing Wheeljack's optics widen when he realised there was more than one picture off himself being interfaced by the twins, as drawn by Sunstreaker's servo.

"See, I was having particular issues with this one, we both need some expert advice on how balance might be maintained in a situation like this. We'll probably need a demonstration, neither of us are very good at support structure stuff… will we need like a bench or desk or berth to lean on or something?"

A strange little burst of static left the CE before he reset his vocaliser and turned half startled, half shrewd optics on the red twin.

"Is this some kind of a joke? I know you want everyone thinking you're only pulling risqué pranks on Bumblebee, but I happen to know what really went down, and if this is some kind of threat to stop me telling, it's a wasted effort 'cause I wouldn't break Bee's confidence like that anyway. Also, it would be entirely possible to maintain a position like that given you synchronised movements so no one overbalanced."

Sideswipe's optical ridges shot up, but Sunstreaker gave a low chuckle.

"Bee told you about it huh? No, this isn't a threat. I don't draw for pranks."

Wheeljack looked over at him critically, then back at the data pad, scrolling through the pictures himself, helm panels now glowing towards a purplish colour.

"Hmmm… well, you got me. If it ain't a prank, I don't know what your agenda is. Although I gotta say, I don't really consider myself much of a looker but you certainly have captured my… finer qualities in these drawings of yours… I don't think I've ever appreciated art quite so much…"

This time Sideswipe joined his brother laughing, and they both placed servos on each of the Lancia's shoulders.

"Wow, you science bots really are oblivious sometimes." The red twin said with a good-natured shake of his helm.

"Hmmm. Even Bumblebee caught on quicker. THIS, my dear Wheeljack, is an offer. Which I advise you take." Sunstreaker purred near his left audio, ex-venting over a glowing helm panel and noting the tiny quiver it sent through the engineer.

"And I suggest you take it. When Sunny is obsessed enough to draw you, he gets more and more desperate to play out his fantasies. Refusing will only be your loss, 'cause if you do, he'll just act everything out on me." Sideswipe's grin widened.

Wheeljack's optics never left the data pad, and he had to admit the visual examples of what the Twins were offering were… exceptionally tempting. But he couldn't shake a nagging feeling in the back of his processor.

"But… why me?… I'm not your usual type, I'm not particularly attractive or trendy, we barely talk outside of the rec. room, and I haven't displayed any hidden feral sides recently that might attract you, so…"

The look he gave them both when he met their optics again sort of startled them, their grins slipping. He looked terribly like a turbo-pup that had been kicked and was wondering if it would then be petted or kicked again.

Sunstreaker frowned slightly. "If you must know, it was something Bumblebee said, and since he mentioned it I started seeing you in a different way… in THAT way… and I couldn't get it out of my processor." The golden mech explained lowly, almost sounding embarrassed. Wheeljack's expression turned to one of surprise and he studied Sunstreaker's face, noting he seemed to be genuine.

"Personally, I think he's just developing a kink for chaste mechs. Or at least, mechs who everyone thinks are chaste." Sideswipe said with a wink and an encouraging grin.

Wheeljack bit his lip under his blast mask and glanced at the pictures again to hide the glowing orange blush to his faceplates.

"Well… in that case… I can tell you this uh… this one here probably wouldn't work unless we were vertical… or you had some kind of suspending apparatu- oh!"

The Lancia gasped as Sunstreaker grasped his helm and turned it to place a very seductive kiss on the blast mask. Wheeljack's helm panels flickered deep violet as the tingle of friction from the front-liners skilled lips travelled through the metal to tease the sensors on the sides of his faceplate.

_Primus he_ _'s done that before, no way would he be that good at it otherwise._

"Uh, OK I know I'm agreeing to this but… could we possibly take it to quarters? This room isn't exactly… suitable… mmmm".

The engineer's request trailed off as Sideswipe's skilled digits played softly over his winglets, massaging their length in an entirely spine-strut melting way.

It went on in this manner until Sunstreaker started licking experimentally at Wheeljack's helm panels, at which point he snapped up straight with a gasp.

"Quarters! NOW."

* * *

"AH! S-Sunstreaker… Oooooh…"

Sideswipe grinned from audio to audio up at the quivering engineer as his spike was driven into him by another hard thrust from his twin.

The red front-liner revved his engine hard as Wheeljack nuzzled into his neck, mask still firmly in place. They hadn't been able to convince him to remove it, and they hadn't pressed, knowing many mechs on the ark wore theirs either from work hazards or war injuries. And knowing Wheeljack, it was probably a mix and match of the two. But the mystery only proved to excite the twins more.

Sideswipe was quite happy to be bowed back over the edge of Wheeljack's berth, arms behind him and holding him up, Wheeljack's own on either side of him, the only thing keeping the engineer from collapsing onto him as he was bent forward and sandwiched between them.

Sunstreaker kept his punishing pace up, grunting and growling in highly arousing ways as his powerful, beautiful body arched with every thrust into the lancia's port.

In truth the pace was rather reserved compared to the golden twin's usual preference, but only Sideswipe knew that. It seemed quite enough for Wheeljack, who was putting on an impressive lights show, even with his optics off. His port, as Sunstreaker had found quite to his surprise, was not as tight as he expected, but the engineer had shot him a comment when he mentioned this along the lines of 'you think I never invented anything to take care of myself during barren periods?'.

This had delighted Sideswipe to no end, but his golden brother had advanced their activities before his brother could push the subject or ask for replicas of Wheeljack's inventions.

But it still turned Sunstreaker on, having discovered the kinky side to the otherwise publicly prudish mech.

What was more, Wheeljack didn't seem adverse to a little rough treatment, and while he wasn't as big as either of the twins, he took it very well. Hungrily, even. Which made both twins guess he hadn't had many partners willing to give him the less than gentle treatment that he seemed to enjoy.

Sideswipe purred his engine and licked along one of the erratically purple flashing helm fins, the lancia's cries hiding his own heated moans.

_:Mmmmm he tastes like carbon and plasma discharge_ _… never thought the taste of explosions would be such a turn on…:_

Sunstreaker smirked at his twin's spark-bond communication, leaning over the already bent forward engineer to sample the taste of his plating himself, growling and using the new angle to his advantage as he did.

_:You may be onto something there:_

Wheeljack, oblivious to the silent communication, continued to make delicious noises, making sure to carry every one of Sunstreaker's thrusts into the valve of the red twin under him, who felt absolutely amazing revving his powerful engine against his plating while clenching his port walls _just so…_

Wheeljack retaliated by revving his own engine, flush against the red chassis. It wasn't as if he was a lightweight, after all… he hadn't chosen his alt. mode randomly, and so far the rally car he had adopted the form of had won an impressive amount of titles…

All that, of course, flew out his processor in a haze of bliss and Sideswipe keened and stroked his pedes up his legs, leaning back on his elbows as Sunstreaker grasped the grey hips and _really_ started going for it.

Sunstreaker panted, Wheeljack keened, and Sideswipe moaned, the clanging of pelvic plates and wet noises of suction from two ports being pounded filled the room. It wasn't long until the golden mech plugged in, prompting Wheeljack to do the same, and the twins peaked simultaneously, taking Wheeljack with them in a blinding flash of light from his helm panels.

"Mmmmm… that was good. I like this one." Sunstreaker murmured after several astroseconds, rubbing his faceplate contentedly against the offline engineer's back plates.

Sideswipe groaned in response. "I agree, but… the two of you together are kinda heavy on a mech at a bad angle…"

Sunstreaker snickered and stood up, the tingles of overload buzzing through his frame, making him crave more. He carefully unplugged Wheeljack from his brother, and then from himself, laying the white and green mech on his own berth as Sideswipe scooted back, looking content.

"So, when he onlines, which one are we gonna try next?"

The golden mech's faceplate split into a mischievous grin, drawing the data-pad from sub-space.

"Well, that's up to him, but knowing how he likes challenges and doesn't mind some rough play, I think his ambition will get the better of him and we'll be attempting that lovely balancing act."

Sideswipe sighed, engine growling in anticipation as he petted one of the offline lancia's pedes.

"I love having an artist for a brother."


	11. Chapter 11

" _Primus_ how did this happen?"

Whenever Ratchet seemed alarmed, it was never a good thing. Especially given Bumblebee's condition had not improved once Skyfire had picked them up.

The espionage team had comm.'d ahead so that the chief medic could prepare himself to receive the oddly damaged minibot spy. He was now being wheeled quickly into the ark on a gurney, writhing weakly, completely incoherent. His engine strained and his frame nearly glowed with excess heat, which was obviously extremely painful for the poor yellow mech.

Mirage shook his head. "All I got out of him was something about Skywarp's room and cones."

Ratchet gave him a sharp look. "Did he mention anything piercing his lines or sensor relays?"

Mirage wracked his processor, biting his bottom lip-plate slightly and frowning.

"I think he said something about falling on the cones. He was in a vent above Skywarp's quarters when Ravage attacked him and I think they fell out of the vent somehow."

Ratchet swore to himself and pushed the gurney faster, Mirage, Hound and Skyfire all following.

When they got to the med-bay, Perceptor was there waiting, setting up equipment by a berth. His optics widened when he saw Bumblebee's condition.

"Oh my… what on earth happened?"

Ratchet shook his helm, Hound helping him to lift the scorching frame from the gurney onto the berth.

"Something outside my area of expertise. Perceptor I need you to wake Beachcomber and get him in here, now."

The scientist gave him a slightly quizzical look but complied none-the-less, calling and rousing the geologist via comm. link, thankful that the serene bot didn't mind mid off-cycle wake-up calls.

"Do you want me to go inform Jazz and Prime?" Hound asked, hoping to be of some use as opposed to just standing around helplessly.

"No, I don't want to disrupt their recharge until I've got Bumblebee stable. Primus only knows neither of them get enough stasis time, fragging idiots." The medic replied gruffly. No one really took offence at Ratchets foul mood, they knew he tended to get snappy and snarky when dealing with critical injuries, so his insults were never taken to spark, even when they concerned their Prime.

"Do you have any theories Ratchet? I've never seen any bot in a condition like this." Skyfire asked anxiously, leaning over the foot of the berth and watching the slightly whimpering Bumblebee worriedly.

Beneath his deep concern, he was angry… by all accounts, it sounded like one of _Starscreams_ trine mates had been responsible for the spy's current condition. If any harm came to the sweet natured little bot, Skyfire would have a strut to pick with his old comrade… and he'd be doing the picking with laser fire.

"I have a vague idea of the cause, but no specifics. It looks like a virus, but it's not acting like one… and I can't pick what kind of system pollutant would cause a reaction like this. I HAVE seen something similar though, which is why I need Beachcomber. He's something of an unofficial expert when it comes to cyber-narcotics."

"Cyber-narcotics?" four voices rang out in alarm, but Ratchet merely ignored them all and started trying to patch Bumblebee's broken energon lines, which was difficult when the minibot both singed his servos and wouldn't stop squirming to boot, but he couldn't really help either of those things.

"Are you telling me he's been… _drugged?_ " Perceptor said sounding rather aghast.

"Wouldn't have asked for Beachcomber if I didn't." came the clipped, gruff reply as the medic buried his fingers right into a wound to quickly resolder a broken relay. "Before the war, I treated one or two mechs who'd been badly effected by various sensory-stimulating code packets. I've never seen a reaction this bad though, and I have no idea _which_ CN might cause it."

"Do I want to know just how Beachcomber became an expert in the field?" Mirage sighed, trying to tone down the disdain in his voice.

Hound quirked a flicker of a smile at the noble mech. "You could always ask him."

It just so happened the geologist entered as Mirage served the green tracker a cold glare.

"Hey Ratchet, what's up?" Beachcomber sounded as laid back as ever, despite the fact he'd been randomly summoned out of recharge. Once he caught sight and sound of Bumblebee though, his serene features became quite a lot more serious than any of them were used to seeing.

"I need you to tell me if you recognise Bumblebee's symptoms, I think he's been drugged, but I don't know what with. Here, something for you to analyse." The CMO held out a sample of Bumblebee's energon, taken before he'd closed off the last leaking line.

Frowning in concern, the blue and white mech stepped over and took the sample, holding the small open vial to his olfactory sensors. He then dripped some onto a forefinger and rubbed it between the digit and his thumb, letting the specialised sensory equipment in his servos tell him the composition of the processed energon. Normally the sensors were for identifying the elemental properties in a geological sample, or he'd just dig his fingers into the dirt to find out what minerals it was comprised of, but it also worked for other substances.

His optic band flashed brightly as his HUD registered the results.

"Oh, dude… that's far out… mech oh mech, a maaaajor not good."

"What is it?" Perceptor asked a little impatiently.

Beachcomber gave Bumblebee a very worried look before turning to address Ratchet, who was busy hooking a lubricant line into the writhing minibot.

"That's the Love-bug dude. But, like, a massive overdose for his frame size."

"Gonna have to give that to me in medic speak Beachcomber, I don't speak cyber-hippie." The CMO grouched, servos going to his hip-plates.

Beachcomber couldn't help smiling at the name, slightly amused rather than offended.

"It's an aphrodisiac mech, double decker, hits the programming and the fuel stream simultaneously. Do you know what shape the injectors were?" the beach buggy asked, sobering again quickly.

"Cone shaped." chorused Mirage and Hound.

The geologist nodded with a grim look.

"One of the largest doses, used by bigger frame types, I won't know the strength type unless you also know the colour?"

The Ligier and Jeep looked at each other, Hound shrugging. Bumblebee had never specified colour.

"If it helps at all, they were in Skywarp's room." Mirage said apologetically.

"Uh-oh… if a seeker was using them, then they'd be the strongest." the buggy grimaced.

"This is all very nice to know, but what the slag is going to happen to Bumblebee Mr. Narcotics guru?" Ratchet growled, the worry now evident even under the gruff front.

"Oh, well, initially I'm guessing the stuff will be overwhelming his systems, and it'd hurt, that much information flowing too fast to be processed and used. But once it starts to cycle over a few times, the heat will peak and the chemicals will drive the software to overriding his normal protocols. Then all he'll want to do is frag the mechs he's closest to. Except that would be a really bad idea, cause if he plugs into any-mech, the stuff copies itself into their systems. And with that much of an overdose, if he overloads he'll overheat big-time, and that could mean some serious processor damage as well as slagging a lot of his primary components. His insides will just melt dude." The blue and white buggy explained calmly, but not without an almost… _awkward_ edge to his tone.

Ratchet dragged a servo over his faceplate. " _Great,_ So I have a slagging frag-happy minibot who'll probably have massive system failures if I let him do what this drug wants him to, and if I don't?"

"He might overheat anyway unless you keep pumping coolant through his systems. Thing is it will take twice as long to work out of his systems if he doesn't share it, and that'll probably cause some heat damage anyway. I mean it doesn't really diminish in strength when copied, but it doesn't last as long by a small amount. There isn't a remedy either, unless you have a bunch of mechs he can plug into and share it with without him actually overloading but, heh, that's not really an option I guess… oh, also, it's gonna be like he's overcharged or something, he won't really be himself, so I recommend keeping him isolated."

"Uh… there may be a problem with that…" Perceptor piped up.

The rest of them, who had been completely focussed on the geologists unbelievable words, turned now to the microscope, who simply gestured to the empty berth.

None of them had noticed Bumblebee going quiet, and while all their attention had been drawn by Beachcombers explanations, the spy had done what he did best and made good his escape, leaving a leaking coolant line in his absence.

Clearly, he had reached the stage where the drug was driving his desires, and he was acting upon them.

Beachcomber was the first to break the dead silence.

"….So… wait… who's he going to want to frag first?"

Mirage and Hound instantly gave each other a knowing look.

Ratchet smacked his palms to his faceplate.

"Primus _SLAGGIT!_ "

* * *

Bumblebee crawled quickly and silently through the vents. He was so fragging _hot_ it felt like his circuits might fuse to his plating… and he really didn't care, because the only burning he could concentrate on was in his pelvis under his panel. One line of code had stuck in his processor and he was absolutely _obsessed_ with it, overshadowing all thought or ration with this deep, burning NEED.

All he could process was that he HAD to get to Prowl and Jazz… and he had to frag their microchips out.

All he wanted to do was make them scream with pleasure, like it was his life's goal.

Ooooh Primus, just thinking about them, making them writhe beneath him, plugging in, flooding them with his spark energy, he felt lubricant pooling under his interface cover and he shuffled faster through the vents, knowing exactly where he was going, almost on auto-pilot. In some small part of his processor, he was running on a paranoid little protocol telling him to move as if in enemy territory. He had heard them. They didn't want to let him be with Prowl and Jazz. They said he wasn't allowed to overload, but frag it what did they know! They weren't burning up inside! Bumblebee knew if he just got an overload or two, everything would be right with the world. He didn't care what happened after, he just wanted to peak with the mechs he loved.

Reaching the right vent, the small spy expertly worked at opening up the grate. As he did, he planned further…

Prowl and Jazz wouldn't know how he was feeling until he plugged in, then they'd understand, but before that… what if they tried to stop him? What if they thought like Ratchet? Or just as bad, what if they wanted to mess around with needless foreplay?

Mind made up as to how to go about his task, Bumblebee slipped into the room silently and began executing his plan.

* * *

_**Prowl, Jazz, come in** **… come in, damnit, wake up you slaggers, up, up, come on! This is important!** _

Prowl was startled out of recharge a little slower than Jazz. At first, he couldn't quite process what was going on. Thankfully, Jazz cut in for him. They had been recharging together every night since the start of Bumblebee's mission. Not that they didn't often recharge together, but neither had quite expected the anxiousness that had replaced the small bot in his absence. They were both already quite accustomed to his company and couldn't stop worrying every moment he wasn't on board the Ark.

**Here Ratch, we** **'re online, talk ta us.**

_**Listen carefully, this is important. Whatever you do, don't let Bumblebee in your room. If he gets in, under NO circumstances are you to interface with him, and do NOT let him overload!** _

**Uhhh… that's gonna be a bit hard Ratch…**

A burst of static from the saboteur's vocaliser interrupted Jazz's internal communication.

**He** **'s… kinda on top of me.**

_**Well get him off! NOW! He's overdosed with a dangerous amount of cyber narcotic, he overloads and his insides will short out and melt!** _

**Gonna-** "unh!" **…be a bit hard Ratch…. He's immobilised mah motion relays. And Prowl's too I'm guessin. But that explains it, I s'pose…**

Prowl's optics finally flashed on at full power and he looked around in alarm. None of the conversation had really sunk in for the tactician in his slow onlining, until Jazz had mentioned motion relays and he'd found he too couldn't move.

To his surprise, Bumblebee was indeed in their room, draped over his own abdomen and lapping eagerly at what seemed to be Jazz's open interface array somewhere beyond his line of sight.

"Bumblebee!"

The spy looked up, licking his lip-plates lasciviously, and Prowl gasped out loud… the yellow minibot's optics were a deep violet colour.

 **Ratchet what exactly was he overdosed with?** Prowl's startled vocals came through.

_**Beachcomber said it's known as the 'love-bug'. Don't know if you ever ran into that little illegal narcotic back when you were an enforcer, but he's got at least two seeker appropriate doses of it in his systems. He's not in his right processor, and according to Beachcomber, if he plugs into you, the dose is copy-pasted into your systems.** _

While Ratchet had been talking, Bumblebee had slid away from Jazz's pelvic plating and was now focussing all his attention on Prowl. The Datsun only just caught a stifled whimper of loss from Jazz, but from what Ratchet had just told him… Jazz should be counting himself lucky.

Prowl tried hard to move his limbs as the minibot ran firm digits over his panel. But it was as Jazz had suspected, and despite himself he gasped at the sensation Bumblebee's touches sent through his sensor net.

**Ratchet we can** **'t MOVE, what are we supposed to do?**

_… **Nothing. Hold tight, I'm coming to catch him.**_

**Don't be surprised if he's disabled the door Ratch… if he got the jump on Prowl and Me, he's runnin' on espionage protocols.** Jazz warned meekly, receiving a small burst of frustrated cursing from the medic before the line was cut.

Prowl felt himself heating up despite the seriousness of the situation. His faceplates burned as he realised just how much he was actually… enjoying Bumblebee having complete control over him. And the spy wasn't wasting any time either.

He already had the SIC's panel open and was slipping two digits into the rapidly lubricating port.

Prowl did his best to bite back the sounds he so wanted to utter, optics flashing erratically at the signals as he trembled slightly.

He looked as far to his right as he could, noting that Jazz was also trying to fight his immobilisation, but panting like him, engine humming a little louder than normal.

It was a complete shock to Prowl when he felt Bumblebee's fingers leave his port so quickly, and he looked up with a soft keen to see the minibot slipping between his legs, shoving them open, cord already out and pressurised…

And as if that wasn't enough to flare Prowl's guilty lust, the yellow beetle let out the most guttural, feral growl from his engine that the tactician had ever heard… and he was sure Bumblebee's engine wouldn't normally be capable of such a noise. He was right, too, because he could hear the strained whine under toning it and smell the burning oil and lubricants.

Unfortunately, all this was wiped from his mind the moment Bumblebee thrust into him.

Prowl let out a soft whimper as the smaller mech's spike drove deep into his valve, causing him to clench instinctively… apparently his interface equipment was NOT immobilised like his joints were. The spy's cord was incredibly hot, nearly to the point of hurting, but much to the tacticians own shame, it only heightened the arousal coursing through his systems. The explosion of pleasure was then made more intense by the second deep thrumming growl that came from the beetle's engine.

The smaller mech pulled out only marginally before slamming his hips back against Prowl's, pressing the silver thighs further open with his arms as he went, bumping Jazz with one of the datsun's knees.

Prowl keened this time, and he heard a sympathetic moan from the body next to him.

Bumblebee growled from his vocaliser and made one last hard thrust, magnetising his spike hub and plugging into the black and white frame.

Prowl cried out as an explosion of data flooded into him… not just hard thrumming pulses from Bumblebee's spark, but the packets of cyber narcotic data copying into his systems. His firewalls didn't stand a chance, he'd never installed the sort needed for this kind of systems invasion… the chance of such an event had been so low it was nearly non-existent. The rush and the heat and his own helplessness were too much, and overload caught Prowl by surprise.

When the intense buzz of pleasure began to ebb, the incredible heat settled in, and the tactician whined as it over-ran his processor and sensors. Still proving too much for his body to cope with, he quickly fell offline, missing the moan of frustration from Bumblebee.

The minibot had not expected that… Prowl had overloaded much sooner than anticipated, and he had missed out.

He disconnected immediately and pulled out, unwilling to waste more time.

After all, he still had Jazz to please.

The Saboteur had seen how fast Prowl went down… he didn't expect to last too long himself. He knew the drug in Bumblebee's systems, he had taken some himself a servoful of times in his youngling vorns, but his body had long since lost it's tolerance thresholds for the stuff. It would be just like the first time he'd taken it. It may have been a long time ago, but the TIC remembered perfectly well what the first time had been like.

_Ooooh Primus_ _…_

Jazz gasped out loud as Bumblebee growled low in his straining engine, climbing between the Porsche's legs and laying his chassis over the black pelvic armour. His violet optics bored with intent into the blue visor, and Jazz whimpered. The beetle's hood was incredibly hot as it travelled up his body, keeping in contact all the way until he felt the tip of the spy's spike press against his soaking valve.

Jazz groaned, clenching automatically to make it hard for Bumblebee to plug in.

"Bad idea lil' bug… ya gonna slag yer-nh!- yerself…"

The yellow mech's only response was to bare his denta and slam his hips against Jazz's with a clang.

The Porsche cried out as the small spike stabbed into his valve, setting off sensors with a blissful fire. Clenching wasn't doing much good… the minibot was the right size to slip into the smaller port space with little trouble… but a lot more sensation, and from the deep moan Bumblebee let out, it sounded like Jazz's attempt to slow him down was only going to get him closer to a possibly fatal overload.

_Slag, there_ _'s no way he's gonna listen to reason overdosed on that stuff… guess I'll just have to try and follow Prowl's lead, take one for the team… sorry Bee…_

The minibot's next hard thrust was met with absolutely no resistance, and both mechs gasped as the small cord rammed right through to Jazz's socket, plugging in without magnetisation.

Jazz cried out, visor flashing nearly white as the narcotic copied to his systems.

He thought he could vaguely hear the sound of someone trying to open the door, maybe Ratchet's cursing, but he couldn't quite concentrate on anything beyond the hot bliss of Bumblebee's spark energy flooding his systems. It was too easy to lose himself in it and let the overload take him with a strangled keen.

By the time the intense ecstasy ebbed, Jazz felt pleasantly spent, and with a brief panted "sorry" to the minibot still pressing scorching plating into his midriff, he allowed his systems to cycle offline again.

* * *

"Primus damnit why does that little fragger have to be so good at his job?"

By the time Ratchet finally managed to bypass the corruption lock on the door, the sounds from inside had ceased for over a breem. He braced himself as he came across the two black and white mechs lying prone and offline on Jazz's berth. Both had their interface covers open and lubricants smattered the area around their ports slightly. There was no sign of Bumblebee other than the open ventilation grill and the smell of burnt oil still lingering on the air.

Ratchet sighed heavily, frowning at the now infected second and third in charge bots who would no doubt soon be back online and ready to frag each other's processors out… something he'd rather not be there for.

He ran a quick check on their systems, but being larger frame types, they seemed to be coping with the overdose far better.

Frowning, Ratchet gave them both a measure of coolant directly into their systems as an extra precaution.

"Hmph… never really would have picked Bumblebee as a spike mech. NOW who the slag is he going after, it's clear he didn't get anything from these two before… oh _Primus no…_ "

**Ratchet, are you sure you don** **'t want any help?**

_**I would LOVE help Skyfire, but I have patient privacy to think about. Do you honestly want to know who Bumblebee is trying to frag, even if I was careless enough to let you assist?** _

**Umm… not really, I suppose…**

_**Then stay there and make sure Mirage doesn't let his curiosity get the better of him. While you're at it, tell Perceptor to appraise Red Alert of the situation before he starts glitching over the minibot in the air vents screwing with door locks.** _

**Sure Ratchet. Good luck, and I'm on call if you need to get anyone to med-bay quickly.**

_**I thought you said you weren't interested in who Bumblebee wants to frag?** _

**…**

Ratchet couldn't help a slight snigger at having caught out the usually demure scientist in his undeniable curiosity. Not that he was surprised. In fact, he suspected there wasn't a single mech on the Ark that wouldn't have at least some small amount of guilty curiosity about who their most innocent-natured crew member would take to berth given a choice.

Well… it looked like he was going to their berths right now, and there was certainly no choice involved where the other mechs were concerned. It probably wasn't a problem when it came to Prowl and Jazz, but beyond them…

The CMO quickly left Jazz's quarters, locking the door with a specialised code to make sure the two bots inside couldn't get out (hoping that neither would want to until they'd fragged all the narcotic out of their systems, the last thing he needed was two more infected mechs spreading it around).

The next two who he suspected as targets, most would probably consider not to have a problem with the situation either… but none of them were privy to the same confidential patient information as him, and right now, he had enough to worry about with a minibot that could melt his insides in the most

embarrassing way possible and offline in the process… he didn't need the re-opening of psychological wounds to top it off.

* * *

Bumblebee was doing his best not to trail lubricants as he went. He couldn't leave a trail. He mustn't leave a trail. They couldn't find him. He had to get to them… He needed the twins… wanted to show them what he could _really_ do, make them scream in pleasure, they'd feel it through their bond, just like before… Oh, what would it be like to feel one of their valves around him again.

He stifled a guttural growl, engine revving instead at the thought, spike twitching. He hadn't bothered sheathing it again. He doubted he could if he tried, it was _throbbing_ with need, making his legs tremble, making him pant through his vents, yet still he moved quickly and quietly, driven by his absolute _need_ for the two mechs occupying his mind.  
It wasn't that he wouldn't prefer Jazz and Prowl, but they weren't an option anymore, Ratchet had gotten there, and he hadn't been able to overload.

So he had to find the others he knew would help him, would give him what he wanted, would appreciate what he could do for them…

Mmmmm, just thinking about Sunstreaker's thick spike, how he would stroke it while plunging his own into the tight golden twin's port… oh it had been SO delicious, but he'd never gotten to spike it, and now for some reason he was obsessed with the idea.

When he came to the right room, it took him even less time than at the first grate. Within a klik, the spy had fixed the door lock against a quick entrance. Swiftly, he made his way over to the large bots lying unawares in recharge on their berths.

* * *

Sunstreaker was woken first by feeling rather than sound.

It was an odd feeling. It should be a pleasant feeling. If he had felt the presence of the other half of his spark above him, or recognised the touch implicitly, then he wouldn't have panicked.

…But it was obvious within a nanoklik of his processor stirring that the digits groping his panel were not Sideswipes.

Sunstreaker's optics onlined as he sent the commands to his body to sit up and lash out. It was with a sick wave of fear that the commands failed to work.

He couldn't move.

To his own disgust, he let out a strangled whine, a noise somewhere between protesting his fear and frustration towards his assailant and himself.

_Why can_ _'t I move?_

: _Sunny, calm down, it's just Bumblebee:_

The golden mech's frantic pale blue optics swivelled sideways until he could just make out his red Twin's form on the opposite berth. Then, registering the words, he looked down his chassis to find that, indeed, Bumblebee was sitting on his thighs and rubbing his panel hard.

He opened his mouth, one of the few parts of him he could still move, and was about to tell Bumblebee in his most menacing voice to _get the frag off him…_ when he noticed the colour of the minibot's optics.

: _Ratchet said there was an accident on his mission, he's overdosed on a cyber-narcotic:_

_:Get him off me 'Sides:_

_:I can't bro, he's immobilised our motion relays:_

_:GET… HIM… OFF…:_

Sideswipe felt the raw fear through the bond… knew his brother wasn't angry in his emphasis… but terrified. And his half of the spark gave a horrible pang because he knew all too well why. The memories weren't exactly pleasant for him either.

"It's OK Sunny, it's just Bumblebee. He won't hurt you, he's tiny, he couldn't possibly hurt you, and he wouldn't want to anyway, it's OK, it'll be fine…" Sideswipe kept up a calm litany which Bumblebee seemed to ignore completely. It was clear his systems were over-run with the drug overdose coursing through him. All the Red Twin could do was lie on his side, immobilised exactly as he had been recharging, sending calming pulses to his brother, watching as the prone golden frame was pawed at by the first minibot they'd actually interfaced by choice. Sideswipe tried not to let his spark sink. He'd been hoping Bumblebee might finally be the last step for Sunstreaker… that his brother might be able to put his demons to rest at last, but this… this just had to be some cruel joke of the pit…

**Ratchet hurry the Frag up, Sunny** **'s panicking, there's only so long I can keep him calm**

_**I'm on my way, but if Bumblebee disabled your lock the same way as… well, it'll be more than a breem before I can get to you, just do what you can, keep your bond as open as possible, no matter what.** _

"Hnnn, no… stop…"

Some small part of Bumblebee's processor thought the whimpered words from the golden toughliner were alarmingly out of place… but the narcotics programming quickly interpreted it as a reaction to the pleasure he was giving the other bot and egged him on.

With a thrumming, strained growl from his engine, Bumblebee opened the gold panel and dipped two fingers right into the port, which trembled wildly at his touch, making him positively purr.

Sunstreaker gave a treamouring keen, clenching his dentals, optics nearly white as his spark pulse raced and vents worked overtime. The fingers in his port burned with unbearable heat, and the sensations were anything but pleasurable. He fought to suppress the memory flashes, but… the situation was just too similar.

: _Sunny, it's OK, he won't hurt you, he just wants to make you feel good… shut off your optics…:_

 _: no… I can't, I c- :_ Sunstreaker felt his faceplates burn with self loathing and disgust as he whimpered again, chocking out static, trying to hold back the clicks.

: _It's alright Sunny, listen, just listen, don't look… he almost sounds like Prime… pretend it's Prime, listen to the purr thing, c'mon, you can do that, you know what he's like, he wouldn't hurt a petro-rabbit:_

Sideswipe continued to barrage his brother's spark with soothing pulses through the bond until he saw Sunstreaker's optics fade off. The sight of Bumblebee pumping his brother's valve with his fingers and purring in that deep, sensual way he'd never heard before should have been turning him on something fierce… but all he could feel was an acute sympathy and anxiousness for his brother.

For the moment, he was managing to keep his golden counterpart's fear under wraps… really, there was no way Bumblebee would ever intend the sort of harm those minibots at the sparkling care home had. Sideswipe cursed the drugs that were ruining what had been such a promising bond between them and the beetle. He prayed Ratchet managed to get there before Bumblebee did anything they would all regret…

But even as he thought it, the yellow spy moved, drawing his fingers out of his brother's valve and lining up his slender, twitching spike with Sunstreaker's valve.

: _Optics off Sunny! It's OK, it'll be OK, pretend it's the night we got him drunk, pretend he's just getting us back for that prank, he'd never hurt you, he doesn't mean it, he-:_

"NYAAAAH! NOOOO! GET OFF, PLEASE! _PLEASE…_ "

Bumblebee's processor was fuzzed by the heat… _so much heat, it was blinding, burning, aching…_ that when Sunstreaker whimpered at his touches and offlined his optics, he thought he must be doing things right, making him feel so good he couldn't handle it, he thought a good hard spiking would be just what the golden Twin wanted…

So when the valve was lubricated enough, which had been surprisingly hard to initiate, he'd wasted no time getting down to business, thrusting in hard like he had with Jazz, clutching the golden hips, expecting an outcry of passion…

What he got made him falter and stop.

Why was he telling him to get off?

A searing, painful heat passed across Bumblebee's systems and he shuddered, spike throbbing in the quivering valve. He couldn't stop now, Sunstreaker didn't understand for some reason, he would make him feel _good,_ he would show him. Once he plugged in, Sunstreaker would understand, he'd be _begging_ him for an overload, he knew it…

Bumblebee pulled back and magnetised his hub, making another hard thrust, drawing a burst of harsh static and a strangled cry from the golden Lamborghini. Bumblebee was hard pressed to reach the larger mechs socket, and it took three more thrusts, by which time Sunstreaker was keening in a strange pitch.

When Bumblebee finally managed to plug in, the toughliner's optics onlined a harsh white and he went quiet. He thrust hot pulses of spark energy in with the copying CN data, feeling odd feedback from the golden mech. Rather than letting him in, letting the pleasure wash over him, Sunstreaker was throwing up firewalls… and the narcotics were smashing through them in an unpleasant way.

Bumblebee grunted and wavered in place. Sunstreaker gave another broken cry, and Sideswipe gasped, able to feel the internal struggle his brother was enduring through the wide open bond.

He whimpered as spark-deep pain lashed out from Sunstreaker and the golden mech's processors locked up from the overload of information.

For Sunstreaker, the old, deep seated memory trauma mixing with the burning overdose of a drug he recognised as one which was meant to heighten his interface drive was just too much. There were too many conflicting signal sources, and he blacked out completely.

It was not the typical sensory overload usually gained from interfacing, and it completely stumped Bumblebee… who also then realised he was even further from his own overload than before.

He gave a desperate whine and pulled out of Sunstreaker's offline systems. He had no idea what had just happened, but clearly the golden twin was not going to enjoy what Bumblebee wanted to do for him… and what was more, he could hear Ratchet at the door again, swearing and fiddling with the lock.

He threw Sideswipe a lust filled look, under toned with confusion, and decided he probably wouldn't have any luck here before he was caught.

He'd have to find another mech to shower with pleasure, and he was running out of options as far as lovers went… _unless…._

With a renewed flash in his violet optics, Bumblebee clambered off Sunstreaker's berth and entered the vents again, leaving a panting, distraught and immobilised Sideswipe and an offline, traumatised and drugged up Sunstreaker in his wake.

It was at least another five kliks before Ratchet managed to break open the door. He would have just shot the locks and damned the consequences, but again, there was a reason Bumblebee was one of the best in his class. The whole door would lock up if the keypad was destroyed, that's how the spy had re-programmed it. And he couldn't really start blasting down the door itself, unless he wanted to wake the whole ark and alert them to the embarrassing situation.

Cursing like a drunken weapons specialist, the medic rushed straight to Sunstreaker's berth the moment he was in, unsurprised to find Bumblebee gone… but slightly surprised to find Sideswipe still online and untouched.

Neither of them spoke as Ratchet checked over Sunstreakers systems, but he could hear the red twin's ventilations get heavier.

"He'll online again soon… he's dosed up now and I'm guessing… (he turned to look at Sideswipe, noting the deeper blue of his optics) you're getting the effects through the bond too. From the way Bumblebee has been acting, I estimate Sunstreaker's probably not going to have much of a grudge once he wakes up. But later when it wears off… we're going to have to do some serious damage control." he said grimly. Sideswipe gave him a deeply pained look, and it was clear he would have nodded if possible.

Ratchet went over and turned his motion relays back on, the red twin immediately rushing to his brother's side and laying his servos gingerly on the golden plating.

"I know this drug… I can handle Sunny through it tonight, but where did Bumblebee go? If he's looking for an overload, why didn't he just jump me right after Sunny offlined?"

The CMO rubbed his faceplate tiredly. "It's a massive overdose for him, it's messing with his processor. Most likely he's looking for a partner to have _several_ overloads with, and as he already knows I'm looking to stop that, he wasn't going to risk it with me outside the door. His espionage programming seems to be running overtime to help him achieve the ends the narcotic wants him to. I don't suppose you have any suggestions as to his next target, because he's already gone through the first four candidates unsuccessfully and I don't know anything else about his sparks deepest desires" Ratchet said gruffly.

Sideswipe frowned, still panting slightly through his slightly hotter systems. "Well he did mention something… the night we got him overcharged. It was his list of mechs he'd uh… he wouldn't mind fragging."

"Oh? So he does have one like everyone else." The medic would have sniggered, but the amusement was brief given the direness of the situation as it had turned.

"Yea… other than us, and probably whoever the other mechs are he's with… he said Smokescreen and Wheeljack. But there was that Cliffjumper thing ages ago wasn't there? I thought they tried to get together once, maybe he's the next target… what? Oh, yea, I know… he said Smokescreen seemed 'fun' and Wheeljack was nice, but who hasn't imagined what it's like to frag their friends?"

Sideswipe said calmly with a half shrug as the medic stared at him with wide, surprised optics.

Ratchet shook his helm and sighed, rubbing the middle of his chevron and frowning.

"Yea, I guess I better go wake Cliffjumper, he seems like the most likely of the next candidates. Beachcomber said he'd go for good friends if he ran out of berth mates as options. Problem is, the little slagger is friends with pretty much _everyone…_ "

With that, Ratchet ran off towards the minibot room-mates quarters, leaving Sideswipe preparing himself to handle his drugged up brother once he onlined… and quite forgetting to lock their door the same way he had with Jazz and Prowl.

* * *

Bumblebee would be quick to warn any-bot for their own good not to wake Cliffjumper in the middle of deep recharge. Not that he could at the present time, but those who didn't know by now probably deserved to learn their lesson. One of the few mechs that already knew was one of the only mechs that would dare do it on purpose. Ratchet had absolutely no qualms waking the red minibot, no matter how much swearing he got on the other side of the closed door when he reached the shared quarters. It was a full klik before the door whooshed open and the scowling gunner stood with an expression indicative of someone ready to give an audioful. His ire seemed to dissolve slightly when he saw it was Ratchet but none the less he gave a very disgruntled 'What?'

"Quick question, how likely is it that Bumblebee would want to frag you again?" Ratchet asked with a dead straight expression.

The medic almost wished he had a camera to capture the completely dumbfounded expression on Cliffjumper's faceplate. However, he did actually need to know… unfortunately the question had completely thrown the minibot off kilter and he seemed in the midst of trying to determine an answer and find the right way to tell the medic to slag off. Perhaps SOME explanation was needed…

Ratchet sighed heavily through his vents. "Bumblebee is back early from his mission because he accidentally got overdosed with a cyber narcotic that acts as a powerful aphrodisiac. Currently he's disabling and fragging mechs he's most attracted to and passing copies of the drug into their systems. So how likely is he to go after you?"

It took Cliffjumper's slowly rebooting processor another half a Klik to really register what Ratchet was telling him, but his anger and confusion were quickly replaced with anxiety and a little annoyance.

He frowned deeply. "Bee wouldn't bother. We aren't… friends like that. Why can't he just go ahead and frag who he wants? What's the point chasing him, it's not like he gets any most of the time anyway."

It was the medic's turn to glare in annoyance. "The high dose is critically overheating his systems you glitch. If he overloads even _once_ it'll slag his insides. Apart from that, I don't think he wants to embarrass himself by spiking half the base while out of his processor. If you aren't his 'type', any suggestions on who he might go after?"

Cliffjumper frowned again. "He doesn't really talk about that kinda slag… not with me anyway. But from what I can tell, have you tried the Twins? And I know Jazz is the 'morale officer', he might have done Bee one or two favours in the name of stress relief, knowing what he's like."

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge with a soft growl.

"Been there and been there."

"What about Bluestreak? He and Bee are pretty good friends, even though I don't think it's anything like _that._ " the red minibot shrugged. "How the frag did he get overdosed on a CN anyway?"

Ratchet grimaced. "Got attacked by Ravage, fell into Skywarps room and onto a few of his cones or something. Thanks for the tip off, you might be onto something there. He will be going after friends as well as mechs he admires or is attracted to."

"So… he seriously spiked the Twins?" Cliffjumper's mouth quirked into an almost hopeful smirk.

Ratchet glared and opened his mouth to say something about patient confidentiality and not mentioning it if he didn't want to be locked in a brig cell to keep him safe from Sunstreaker, but a communication line pinged in his HUD.

**Uuuuh** **… Ratchet?**

_**Wheeljack?** _

… **Why am I immobilised and being groped by small servos?**

The Medic sighed heavily again.

_**I** **'m on my way. don't panic, it's just Bumblebee, he's on a high dose of Cyber-Narcotics. If I can't get into your room in time, which is likely, just try not to let him overload.** _

… **Primus please tell me this is some sort of cruel jo-**

Wheeljack's communication cut off into static and Ratchet knew exactly why.

On one servo, he found it just a little amusing. On the other however, Bumblebee was both in grave danger of slagging his systems and probably not doing one of his longest standing friendships much good either. There was the awkward between them of the past few joors, but the kind of awkward from this episode could last well over a few orns.

"Let me guess, he's struck his next victim." Cliffjumper said gruffly with a half smile, half grimace.

"Go back to recharge if you haven't got any more suggestions, I'm probably not going to catch him on this one." Ratchet said with a resigned sigh as he turned to walk away.

"Aw, you're not even gonna tell me who it is?"

"No, and if you utter a word about any of this later, you WILL be the next victim, courtesy of a brig cell, Sunstreaker and my recommendation the whole command staff turn a blind eye for one breem."

* * *

Bumblebee's engine purred deeply as he ran his servos across the top edges of the silver sensor winglets, drawing a burst of static and a low keen from the prone mech beneath him.

He'd had a job immobilising his friend… Wheeljack, as he knew, liked to recharge on his front most of the time. But there were perks to being a minibot, especially in the spy department. He'd been able to slide his arm in through the gap between the chief engineer's windscreen and pelvic armour to access his central mobility relay kill-switch. He was just lucky Wheeljack was also a heavy recharger or he likely would have onlined again before Bumblebee had been able to fiddle around and paralyse him.

Right now he was just making sure the white, green and red mech was lubricated before starting anything, and he knew from accidentally catching 'Jack in the wash racks with Ratchet just what touching his sensor winglets would do.

It wasn't long before he was sure the Lancia was ready (ignoring the soft half-sparked pleas for him to stop, which of course only encouraged him with the narcotic program driving his painfully burning lust).

The yellow mech didn't want to just take him as he was though, he wanted to see the engineer's optics.

It only took half a klik and some clever leverage to flip the larger, inert frame without hurting the protruding winglets.

Wheeljack stared at him with wide optics and purple flashing helm panels, gasping out some mildly blasphemous profanity when he saw how deep a violet the minibot's optics were.

Bumblebee smiled lasciviously at him and rubbed a few digits firmly over his grey panel, looking for the catch point.

"Ngh! Bee, come on, quit it! You know this is going to be so Primus damned awkward by next orn, and I don't want you to slag yourself… you can fight those drugs, I know you, you're stronger than this, you just gotta- Oh… _Primus…_ no, no don't, you don't want to put that the- NGHA- HAAAA!"

Wheeljack offlined his optics, but he couldn't help the erratic flashes of bright purple from his helm panels as the minibot drove into his valve.

And Primus did he hate how good it felt…

_No! He_ _'s your friend, it's not like that, I never thought of him like this… well, not for a long time, and not much, but… AGH! NO! You should NOT be enjoying this! This is NOT good, It's no- Oh PIT where did he learn to spike like that…_

* * *

Ratchet could just hear Wheeljack through the door as he reached the chief engineers quarters. It sounded like Bumblebee was in the middle of fragging up their friendship… literally.

Well, no, thought the medic as he silently worked at the corrupted door-lock… he doubted their friendship would be destroyed by this. It would be terribly uncomfortable for a while if the two acted how he knew thy would, but it was possible with the right kind of nudging from Bumblebee's current lovers and Ratchet himself on the engineers side, they could probably get over it faster.

_Hmmm, maybe Jazz will help me lock them in a room together for a cycle or two, that should do the trick_ _…_

A loud keen from inside told Ratchet that Wheeljack had just been dosed up with the narcotic and he grumbled, working faster.

_Maybe a few cycles. Or half a day. Just to be sure they actually breech the subject_ _…_

* * *

Bumblebee growled low in his straining engine, unplugging from the engineer, who unlike the others, had not overloaded immediately. Bumblebee had felt a strange set of firewalls filter the narcotic programming… which was good, as far as he was concerned, because NOW they could BOTH enjoy themselves.

The minibot began to thrust at a good solid pace, grunting softly and feeling every line in his body burn while his sensor net flared with intense pleasure.

Wheeljack, despite knowing full well he would regret it, was enjoying Bumblebee's technique far too much. Not that he had much choice, given the narcotic was now coursing steadily through his fuel lines and influencing his processing.

_Primus now I know what Prowl and Jazz see in him_ _…_

"OH! NGAAA… THERE… THERE… HNNNNNGH!"

Bumblebee's engine revved hard in response to Wheeljack's impassioned cries. Dutifully, the yellow beetle, still not quite charged enough to get an overload, increased the force of his thrusts in the nicely clenching and beautifully slick valve.

Wheeljack would normally have lasted longer (and could he move, he'd be writhing a pitload more as well), but apart from the drugs heightening his sensitivity, the impromptu frag from the twins the previous joor had left his valve very tender. And somehow, Bumblebee was managing to brush pretty much every over stimulated node in his port, the tip now stabbing particularly processor blowingly against his socket.

On top of everything, the inability to move was doing something fierce for his restraint kink…

Wheeljack let out a wail of pleasure, helm panels flashing a blinding white as overload crashed hard through his immobile systems.

The engineer took a while to come down again… it didn't help hat Bumblebee had not stopped pounding his valve. Obviously, he was still looking for an overload, his grunts sounding a little frustrated. All Wheeljack could do was let out a crackle of static and pant through his vents.

He could just hear Ratchet's soft swearing at his door as renewed shivers of a building charge started in his systems.

When Bumblebee heard the sounds over his own, he suddenly stopped, expression somewhere between annoyance, pain and intense lust.

Wheeljack couldn't help the whine of disappointment when Bumblebee pulled out and slid off his berth.

He knew it was best the minibot didn't keep going… now he paid attention, he could almost taste the burnt electronics on the air, along with the smell of searing oil.

Nevertheless, the spy slipped away, presumably back into the ventilation system, because Wheeljack couldn't turn his head to see where his friend had gotten in.

About a klik after Bumblebee had made his departure, Ratchet got open the door with a huff.

"Primus damnit I missed him again didn't I?"

"It was close. If you didn't have to keep chasing him I'd pin you to this berth right now and share this stuff with you for the rest of the off cycle." Wheeljack purred, helm panels flashing a deep, lustful purple once more, vocaliser laced with static.

"Tch. If I didn't have to chase after Bumblebee… if you could move… if I wanted a massive hangover in the morning… all the possibilities." The medic grumbled as he went over and paused, looking down at the Lancia. "And as much as I want to take advantage of you looking like that and completely at my mercy, there is the fact your little friend is going to fry himself sooner or later if I don't catch him soon."

Wheeljack let out a soft moan, both at the thoughts conjured by Ratchet's words and the disappointment that it was not to be.

The red and white mech fixed the engineer's motion relays quickly and allowed the overly aroused Wheeljack to retract his mask and plant a passionate kiss on him before breaking away.

"I wish I could 'Jack… and I wish you could but I have to quarantine you in here now. But first… any ideas who else Bumblebee might go after? He's onto friends and mechs he admires now, and all the suspects I have are Bluestreak and Smokescreen."

Wheeljack shrugged, vents still panting and his optics a deep blue as he absently pawed at Ratchet's hip plate. "Well, it won't be any fliers. I think I've seen him give Tracks some looks a couple of times, and I know he looks up to Ironhide… and maybe Mirage? They're pretty tight, being in the espionage business and all, and I know they tease each other about fragging sometimes as a joke…" the Lancia's voice dissolved into a sensual purr as he dug his digits into a seam, but Ratchet gently removed the offending servo, giving Wheeljack an apologetic look.

"Slag, why does that slippery little mech have to have so many _friends…_ I'm sorry, 'Jack. If I DO manage to catch him soon and get him strapped down with some coolant running through him, I'll come right back here and help you, okay?"

Wheeljack's optics and helm panels flashed hopefully and he nodded enthusiastically, watching longingly as the red and white bot rushed out his door, locking it behind him.

* * *

Ratchet headed for the quarters of the other two datsun transformers on base. He had already ruled out Mirage as a possibility, given he was still in the med bay and Bumblebee knew he would try and detain him if he went to him. Excluding fliers wasn't much help. And while Ironhide was still a possibility, the medic was fairly sure he would rank below Bluestreak at least, given the gunner was a closer personal friend of the minibot as opposed to a trusted and admired mentor.

When he got to the connected quarters, he could already hear unstifled sounds of interfacing… Immediately, he entered his override code into the door-pad, finding it wasn't locked.

For an astrosecond he thought Bumblebee had finally gotten careless…

And then his optics fell on the three mechs on Bluestreak's berth… or at least, half on Bluestreaks berth.

"Fraggit! I did NOT need THIS!"

Sideswipe barely turned his head where he was splayed on his back, legs in the air, giving Ratchet an almost sheepish apologetic look from half shuttered, deep azure optics. Bluestreak was half curled over the red Twin's abdominal plating, Sunstreaker standing behind him, spiking him hard and driving the gunners own spike into his brother.

Bluestreak gave Ratchet a startled, confused look, then cried out, door wings quivering and Sunstreaker attacked them, ignoring the medic completely.

_Primus damnit how could I forget to quarantine THEM?_

He ducked quickly through the connecting door to Smokescreen's quarters, but the other Datsun was gone.

"S-sorry, AH! …Ratch… this stuff is way too potent… I kinda spiked him and he ran off already… ha-haven't seen Bee here eith- OOOOOH BLUE!"

With a frustrated groan the CMO rolled his optics and drew a servo over his faceplate, leaving the room without looking back, locking the door behind him in hopes to contain at least those three of the now eight infected mechs on base.

Smokescreen… posed a whole new plethora of problems. Ones he'd have to deal with later… Bumblebee was still his most pressing issue.

But with Bluestreak and Smokescreen now out of the running as candidates for the minibot's attentions, Ratchet's next destination would have to be Ironhide's quarters. That was, if the weapons specialist didn't contact him first.

And yet… something in Ratchets tank deep instincts was telling him the red mech he shared a frame type with was not to be the spy's next target…

He just couldn't put his digit on who Bumblebee would conceivably want to go after more right now.

* * *

When he onlined, the feeling of not being able to move was unpleasantly familiar. However, the sensations coupling with it were not at all like the last time he'd been immobilised like this.

They weren't in fact very familiar at all. It wasn't that he hadn't been touched intimately in a long time, because that just wasn't true… the Twins had practically worshipped his body not two joors ago. He had of course reciprocated, he ALWAYS reciprocated. It was in his nature. It made him feel uneasy, not being able to right now…

_Wait a moment_ _…_

He KNEW it wasn't either of the Twins touches sending shivers of pleasure through his relays…

And he REALLY couldn't move. This was not just some half-rebooting dream.

Blue optics blazed online and searched the darkness for the culprit.

When his gaze fell on Bumblebee, he was utterly shocked… his processor simply stopped computing for at least three astroseconds before flaring to life again.

"What are you doing?" the Prime gasped, unable to conceive just what was driving one of his most trusted and loyal crew members…

And then Bumblebee looked up from where he had been teasing the semi's grill with his glossa, locking deep violet optics onto Optimus' startled gaze.

A little relief slid into the red and blue mech's spark… at least it was clear the minibot was not himself. It still begged the question of _what exactly was going on to make him do what he was doing._

Optimus bit back another gasp, this time of guilty pleasure as the nimble black digits dug deep into gaps in his armour, caressing highly tuned sensors in his hip gimble.

**Ratchet** **… I have a slight situation here**

_**Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me** **…** _

**Ratchet?**

The line crackled with a sharp sigh through the medic's vents.

_**Whatever you do Prime, DON** **'T let him overload.** _

**Um…OK…What exactly happened to him? Why is he back from his mission early?**

_**It's a Cyber-Narcotic, he was accidentally overdosed on the Nemesis, his cover was already blown… details later, if he plugs into you, it'll copy into your systems and all you'll want to do is frag too. The dose won't harm you, but it's too much for his frame size, he's already overheating severely, if he overloads it'll fry his insides.** _

**I see. And you're-**

_**Coming to try and catch him, yes. Little fragger keeps giving me the slip. And once he's sorted, there are several infected crew members then to deal with.** _

**Is he going to remember this when the narcotic wears off?**

_**Yep. Be fuzzy at first, but it'll come back. Hope you're ready for some of the most awkward joors the Ark has ever seen. Hold tight Prime, I'll try to hurry, but Bumblebee's modus operandi is to mess with the door locks and run before I can get in.** _

**Alright Ratchet. I'll do what I can to keep him here.**

There was a short bark of laughter over the comm.

_**You** **'re the first not to whine that you can't do anything about it lying immobilised.** _

The Prime smiled wryly under his mask, one of the only movements he could make.

**You know I** **'m good with words, I'll see if I can't convince him to stay. Apart from that, if he's determined to spike me, you and I know he's going to be forever trying to plug in. There's physically no way we are compatible.**

_**Don't sound so disappointed, Optimus.**_ The medic allowed himself a small snicker. _ **Hold tight, I'll be as quick as I can.**_

The semi gave a quick acknowledgement before the comm. link cut out.

The moment it did, he stopped having to control his tone. The whole time Ratchet had been communicating with him, Bumblebee had been giving his panel some considerable attention, and he was not immune to the hot little glossa sliding along the seams of the blue metal plating.

Optimus let out a deep rumble of pleasure at the stimulation.

He didn't try to dissuade Bumblebee. He knew that would be useless, and apart from that, he wanted to keep the beetle there long enough for Ratchet to get in. He'd have to do his best to distract the sharp witted little spy so he didn't catch on to the ploy. If that meant engaging the minibot in a heated session of interfacing to make him oblivious to what was going on, then Optimus would play along… not that Bumblebee was making that hard. By _Primus,_ Optimus would never have guessed just how talented those small servos were…

He groaned as pressure was applied to his interface cover, the yellow mech looking for the catch point. It didn't take him long to find either, and when the cool air hit Optimus' bare array he let out a short huff through his vents at the tingle of pleasure.

Bumblebee's engine revved deeply when he set optics on the large, glistening port. He had known Optimus had to be a good choice… what better mech was there to lavish attention upon? And there was no way the Prime would fail to give him an overload… after all, Optimus was great at everything he did, how could he not be fantastic in berth as well? Mmmm, and the spy could only imagine how good it would be to hear his leader in overload, an overload brought about by him… his spike ached just thinking about it.

First though, he just couldn't resist the sight of that beautiful valve lain bare before him…

Dipping his helm between the massive silver thighs, he lapped at the dripping entrance, smiling and purring when he heard the semi gasp and moan softly.

He ran his glossa hard around the rim of the port, collecting the lubricant and sampling it's heady flavour. It was both tangy and sweet, but still intoxicating. Bumblebee dipped his glossa into the valve for more, egged on by the irregular panting vents of the huge mech. Eventually his ministrations got the lubricant flowing steadily and he pulled back, licking at his lip-plates, quickly dragging himself up the white hips to position himself.

Optimus fixed his gaze on the minibot's again, a tingle running through his lines at the absolute lust in the small mech's gaze. He _never_ could have imagined that sort of look on the minibot's faceplate. Their relationship had never been like that… and even after this, he doubted it ever would be, but all the same… given the impossible circumstances that had lead to the position he was in, he couldn't say it wasn't… at least a little arousing. It wasn't often that the Prime was dominated in any aspect, save by the matrix he carried. But even IT was humming with warm content over his spark. He really couldn't fool himself… Bumblebee, lining himself up with his dripping valve and pressing warm servos over his hips, was completely turning him on.

When the spy thrust in, quick and deep, Optimus couldn't help the mewl of pleasure. It was the smallest spike he'd ever felt, but his valve walls clenched automatically and he could feel it moving, thrusting at a different angle every time, brushing sensors and teasing him unbearably with every stroke.

The minibot panted hard, engine whining in a worrying manner that helped to keep the Prime's arousal in check.

On the one hand, Optimus felt safe, because it was clear his predictions were correct… Bumblebee, for all his efforts, just didn't have a spike long enough to reach his socket.

He was still fairly keen on trying though, it seemed.

For all the soft moans and keens the Prime let slip, his charge build was constantly tempered by the smell of burnt oil and straining sounds of the minibot's engine.

Anxiousness mixed with the incredible ecstasy, until eventually Bumblebee seemed to realise there was no hope of sharing his drug with the larger mech by spiking him.

"Nnn… sorry Bumblebee… I don't think we are very compatible in that sense." Optimus offered the frustrated looking little mech as he pouted, a look of concentration flitting across his features, mixed with an unfocussed sort of confusion.

The minibot made no response, and Optimus gasped as the small spike withdrew quickly, brushing sensors teasingly.

And then, Bumblebee's optics flashed, a wicked smile (that was both… hot and a little alarming) slipping across his faceplate.

That's when the little servos released Prime's cable and began to stroke it firmly.

Optimus gasped and yelped as a new set of blissful sensations washed through his helplessly immobile frame.

He wondered briefly just what the beetle was doing. Until a possibility dawned on him…

**Ratchet?**

_… **Yes Prime?**_

**Can that drug be transferred through a connection via HIS port?**

There was a brief pause of about three astroseconds before the medic answered.

_**He** **'s not… Primus, well… he's going to be sore tomorrow. Whether he manages it or not… and yes, it can. I'm working on your door now, but it might be a couple more Kliks until I can get in. Good luck keeping him from overloading… of course if he's trying what you're suggesting he's trying, hopefully the pain signals will over-ride his charge build. Just hang in there.** _

Optimus groaned out loud, both from the prospect of the beetle hurting himself on his spike, and the sensations of the minibot dipping his glossa into the connector pins on the hub of his cord.

The semi was already half pressurised when his spike was first released, so it didn't take Bumblebee long to get him completely free standing.

He then climbed onto the Prime's hip plating, engine still whining slightly under his loud, deep purring as he lined himself up.

"Bumblebee, I'm not sure that's a good idea… I don't want you to hurt yourself… if you mobilise me again, I can help you- _ooooooooh…_ "

The minibot actually chuckled softly before growling with a rev from his engine. He had pressed himself down onto the thick spike, his port over-lubricated thanks to the drug programming. He clenched and unclenched his valve experimentally as he pushed down slowly, moaning.

The hub had an impressive girth, but if he relaxed the protective ring of meshed platelet's that rimmed his entrance juuuust right…

With a little wriggling and careful flexing, the plug popped through into him, the rest of the cord following easily even though it was stretching him inside.

Bumblebee cried out in bliss, and Optimus gasped, keening softly, staring at the minibot with intense, absolutely astonished optics.

Bumblebee caught his gaze, snickering a little, and uttered the first words he'd been able to process all night since trying to find a suitable partner.

"Don't look so shocked… I used to frag a seeker."

If the Prime felt stunned by the small bot's abilities, it was nothing to how much the simple statement bowled him over.

It then however became very hard to process _anything_ except the ecstasy of that tiny port constricting him. So hot, so wet, so tight… it was like absolutely nothing Optimus had ever experienced. The only thing that came close was probably Sideswipe's mouth, but that wasn't quite as deep.

Bumblebee writhed wantonly as he worked his way down the cord, it's hub pressing hard and lighting every sensor on fire. He felt as if no other spike could ever satisfy him after this… despite what he had said, not even Sunstorm had been this big… which was probably just as well given the seeker's personality, but the thoughts of his cruel ex soon left the beetles processor as the spike hub reached his socket.

With a final jerk down of his hips, Bumblebee connected, throwing his helm back with a cry of ecstasy.

Prime cried out as well as new data flooded his systems. It was searing and a little uncomfortable, leaving that burning heat in it's wake.

When it settled, both mechs were panting. The Matrix was completely sealed off from the effects of the narcotic, but Optimus was certainly not immune. He had not anticipated the strength of the effects… no wonder Bumblebee had come to him, there was no way the mech would have any conscious control over an influence as strong as this drug…

The Prime himself was having a very hard time controlling it.

The moment Bumblebee let out a growling purr again and clenched around him _hard,_ the semi automatically responded with a strong energy surge across the connection.

Bumblebee cried out in bliss, grinding down on the cord that was too long to fully hilt in him.

Optimus groaned, unable to form any kind of coherent plea for Bumblebee to stop before he hurt himself. He could already feel the port around him get hotter, and he was sure it wasn't his imagination, or the drug in his systems.

Unfortunately, Bumblebee was too good at knowing how to evoke more pleasurable responses…

The minibot arched back (rather beautifully, Prime thought in the back of his processor), and reached a small servo around behind him to toy with the Prime's valve.

It proved to be Optimus' undoing. Not even the increasingly bad electrical burning smell coming from Bumblebee's overheating systems could stop his charge from shooting up at the ministrations.

The small yellow mech threw his head back and moaned, hips bucking as the Prime sent more shocks of energy through him, his feedback and the movement of his digits on the semi's port sensors serving to bring Optimus to the brink of overload.

Bumblebee was in a state unlike any he'd ever felt. The drug made the pleasure absolute and all pervasive… even pain was being processed as acute bliss, and he just wanted… no, _needed_ more… needed that explosion, that satisfaction, that completion… he wanted Prime to feel it too, so he pressed as many of his digits as he could into the semi's port. It turned out he could fit all four digits past the knuckle in there, so he did, and then he _pumped_ them hard.

Optimus' optics nearly whited out as the overload surged through him, sending the full charge of it right into Bumblebee, who's grip on his thigh was the only thing preventing him from arching right off the red and blue mech.

But when that absolute ecstasy exploded across Bumblebee's frame… it was accompanied by an intense undertone of pain… and as the pleasure subsided, the pain began to take it's place, growing in intensity, until his keens of bliss turned into keens of agony.

Something was wrong… something was very wrong, and he couldn't process clearly to figure out what.

All he knew was his systems shutting down one by one, forcing him into stasis.

It was pure luck for Optimus that when the minibot crashed, he had un arched and fell forward.

The pressure on his midriff reconnected the wires Bumblebee had unplugged to immobilise him.

Slowly, systems lagging from the massive energy drain of the overload, Prime slipped his digits under the yellow mech to secure the connection of his motion relays.

Once that was done, he gently moved Bumblebee, drawing him off his spike with utmost care, despite the strong waves of pleasure it sent through him, making him want to buck his hips straight back into the small port.

Thankfully, however, his dose of the cyber narcotic, apart from being much less potent to his frame size, was already starting to wear off.

And so was the afterglow.

The large blue and white mech cradled the scorching frame in his arms. Bumblebee was offline, and his engine was sputtering weakly now, clearly having been heavily damaged by the overload.

Optimus hastily stowed his spike away and closed his plating, not bothering to clean up. Bumblebee was his priority first and foremost.

When he reached his door, he was able to open it from the inside without a problem.

Ratchet's helm snapped up from where he'd been frantically working a the outside panel. He didn't seem particularly surprised however. He semi realised he'd probably heard everything.

" _Primus,_ come on, lets get him to med-bay, quickly."

Optimus didn't have to be told twice.

* * *

"How is he?"

It had been two cycles before Ratchet emerged from the private surgery room where he'd taken Bumblebee. After a short visit to the med-bay wash rack, Optimus had hung around with an uneasy looking Hound and Beachcomber (who had now fallen into recharge on one of the berths across the room). Mirage had been sent to do further damage control on the other infected mechs around the ark, and Perceptor was still in the surgery room, setting up monitors on the minibot's systems.

"He'll be fine. Thankfully, by the time he infected you and overloaded, the drug was wearing off from all the other copies he'd produced and the half-life effect. It could have been a lot more severe. His energon pump was slagged, a number of lines were ruptured and circuit relays burnt out, but most of those were from long term stress heat while he was running around. I replaced his pump and the slagged lines and Perceptor made some circuit patches that will hold until he can remake the broken relays. Bee's gonna feel like pit when he wakes up, but I think the worst he'll be dealing with is the awkwardness rather than the injuries." The CMO explained quietly.

Optimus nodded, feeling at least a little relieved that Bumblebee's spark was not in danger.

"What about the other mechs? Who else was infected… or is that a patient confidentiality issue?"

Ratchet snorted.

"It would be, if the mechs involved weren't going to remember and probably talk up a storm about it tomorrow. Mirage has been reporting back via comm. while I worked on Bumblebee. The drug seems to have either worn off now or those still going are locked in their rooms. Apart from Prowl, Jazz, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Wheeljack, Bluestreak and Smokescreen, he's confirmed Tracks, Blaster, Ironhide, Inferno, Red Alert, and-" The medic snickered, "Himself, apparently. Got spotted by Tracks. He also _suspects_ Skyfire, and he thought he heard noises coming from the gestalt wings of the ship, but he got sort of _distracted._ I'm not worried about any other mechs on the ship, by the time the thing's spread through that many mechs it'd be nowhere near as dangerous. A lot of 'em probably won't think anything of it but a high 'face drive. I might run out of port salve if I get an influx during the on shift. We may have to re-arrange the rosters to allow the worse affected to recover, send bots who weren't infected out on patrol."

Optimus nodded, processing the implications slowly, already working out a new roster in his CPU, knowing Prowl would be quite indisposed and unable to do it.

"You said… Sunstreaker was one of the infected?"

Ratchet gave him a calculated, blank look for a few nanoklik's.

"Yes. Has he told you anything regarding his interfacing history?"

The Prime shook his helm. "Sideswipe did. Early on. He Didn't think it was right for them to have a physical relationship with me without me being aware of what happened to him."

Ratchet nodded sagely with a sigh though his vents.

"That's going to be a whole other kettle of sharkticons. Actually, it's what I'm most worried about. Fixing slagged parts is easy compared to scarred sparks and mental trauma. I'll do what I can. Bumblebee will have to understand, but I want Sunstreaker to tell him. However, we're not going to have to deal with that until I drag those Lamborghinis sorry afts in here tomorrow. Bluestreak I won't have to force, but he's probably borne the brunt of Sunstreaker's emotional state. Not that he minded much, from what I saw…" Ratchet grimaced and Optimus couldn't help a wan half smile beneath his mask at the medics expression.

"And then there's the mission briefing once processors and sparks have been mended as much as possible. And I have the sinking feeling we've lost one of our best means of gathering information directly from the Nemesis." Optimus sighed, rubbing at his helm to try and clear the nagging beginnings of a processor ache.

"Tch. That one's not my problem. And after this debacle, I don't think I mind if he never has to do another infiltration mission. Imagine this all over again! Now… you should get some more recharge once you've logged that new roster I know you've already figured out in your CPU… I have a certain engineer to find and round up. Mirage tells me he's managed to break out of his room where I locked him, and I did promise to get back to him, but apparently he's just too impatient when he's high."

Optimus shook his helm as the medic threw him the smallest wink before storming out of the med-bay.


	12. Chapter 12

Bumblebee wished, as soon as he onlined, that he had not done so. The first sensation he registered was pain. It was fairly nondescript… an overall ache with hot spots of particular unpleasantness near his shoulder, in his CPU, and… his pelvic region, for some reason.

He really hoped it was because of some embarrassing stray shot, but from the feel of it, it would have had to of been a very precisely fired stray shot… and he would need to have been lying down with his legs wide open, so that sort of ruled that out.

Before he onlined his optics, he let his memory cache attempt to boot up. It was curiously sluggish…to the point where he began to suspect he must be in the med-bay. Of course, until it did online, he couldn't know what had happened… he could well be stuck in enemy territory… although, that didn't make much sense because he could feel, and his systems pinged back an affirmative, that there was coolant being fed into his frame from a medical port and the remnants of a sedative.

Decepticons didn't tend to put their captives on comfortable berths either.

It was with this thought that things started to come back to him slowly…

Falling on those cones… yes, Ravage had attacked him, he'd fallen from the vent above Skywarp's quarters onto those things which had started to effect him immediately… the effects had gotten worse the longer it had taken him to get out of the base… his processor had gotten foggier and conflicting signals in his body. He'd also been hit by a few laser shots… ah, that explained his shoulder.

But yes, he remembered escaping. Mirage had blown a hole in the Nemesis and he'd gotten out with the other espionage agent's help. That's when things had gotten really bad… the ocean water running over his plating had barely kept his processor cool enough to know what was happening to him… past that his systems had been so taxed and stressed his memory grew fuzzy and disjointed… until a certain point when he'd found the overwhelming heat abated and he could think again…

Except…

He'd not been thinking normally.

Still with his optics off, Bumblebee frowned. His data tracks recorded some strange single focus behaviour in him. He'd… he'd taken out the coolant line and gone stealth… into the vents to find someone without Ratchet catching him… yes, Jazz and Prowl, but why had he…

The suddenness with which the rest of that cycle came back to him floored Bumblebee's CPU.

At first, it was just… facts, there, blunt, un-emotive.

Then he began to slow it all down and analyse the separate incidents.

_Oh Primus I_ _…_ _their motion relays? And the locks, why did I_ _…_ _oh right, Ratchet wanted to stop me from_ _…_ _dear Primus did I really_ _…_ _Fraaag and then_ _…_ _oooh pit the Twins_ _…_

Bumblebee's optics suddenly onlined and he vented harshly _._

_What did I do? Something wasn_ _'_ _t right with Sunstreaker_ _…_ _oh slag almighty WHAT did I DO?_

"Good morning Bumblebee. Feeling any better?"

The yellow mech nearly jumped out of his plating when the door swished open and First Aid's gentle, cheery vocals cut through his agonised memory recall.

He looked over at the protectobot who was exuding cheeryness, unable to shift the anxious look from his own faceplate. The red and white secondary medic leant over him to check his coolant line, and despite the mask and visor covering his features he seemed to be giving him a sympathetic look.

"Aid… what happened to me last night?"

The question seemed to make the pacifist a little uncomfortable.

"Uh… well, I'm not sure I'm the mech to explain it. I only got a very quick briefing from Ratchet when I came on duty about three cycles ago, and I've just been treating other mechs since then. He told me to come and see if you were online yet, I've called him."

Bumblebee nodded, worried look not abating. First Aid patted him on the shoulder in an attempt to soothe him but he ended up flinching… he hadn't realised his sensor net was so edgy… Primus it was like a seriously bad hangover.

"Sorry… I forgot… stimulant overdose." The lesser ambulance muttered apologetically.

"It's OK… wait stimulant? Do you know what was in my systems?" the spy asked, apprehensive rather than curious.

First Aid fidgeted, putting up another bag of pain killer and hooking into a small medical port in his arm.

"Well, all Ratchet told me was it was an elicit drug… two pronged effect, coding and chemical, basically you were overdosed with a powerful and infectious aphrodisiac. It also overheated your circuits and partially melted a few of your components, so it's probably wise to not move or over exert yourself too much."

Bumblebee gave a feint nod, not sure if he was more thankful or mortified when the door to the small private room whooshed open to admit Ratchet.

"Thankyou First Aid. Think you could go check on Jazz and Prowl for me now? They may need some more pain relief as well."

Despite the mask and visor Bumblebee could have _sworn_ he saw something akin to a blush on the other ambulance's features… which prompted him to frown and wonder what the PIT he had done to cause pain to his two lovers.

As soon as the door closed behind the other mech, he didn't bother with pre-amble to find out.

"Ratchet what did I DO to them?"

To his surprise and slight irritation, the CMO just laughed and put his servos on his hip plates.

"Oh you aren't the reason they need relief… not directly anyway. That all happened after, part of the effects of that drug. They anticipated it… but at the time they really didn't care. I'm guessing you're feeling something similar?"

Frown deepening, the spy nodded. Ratchet's smile only got bigger.

"So, you remember why it's hurting yet?"

The yellow bot had to offline his optics to wade through the bare facts again, expression becoming more and more horrified.

"Oh Primus… not Wheeljack, tell me I didn't just mess up one of my longest standing friendships _ever_ _…"_

Still grinning infuriatingly, Ratchet crossed his arms and shook his helm. "No, you haven't wrecked anything. Gonna be fun to watch you two dance around each other awkwardly for a while, but he also isn't the reason you're in pain."

Bumblebee continued on through his memory cache, until the reason became evident.

His optics onlined nearly stark white and his faceplate was the absolute epitome of disbelief.

"…I didn't."

"You did." Came the soft, nonchalant reply.

"…please, _please_ tell me I _didn_ _'_ _t_ _…"_

"Sorry Bumblebee, but you fragged Optimus Prime. Both ways, in fact, although only one worked… bet it's been a while though, since that _seeker_ of yours… hence why it hurts."

"…What the frag, how do you know about… oooh primus I _said_ something didn't I?"

"Yup. But don't worry, Optimus, noble as he is bless his spark, assumed you were referring to something pre-war. And I am also the only one he told, so no need to worry about the rest of the base hounding you over it. Just out of curiosity though, who was it?"

Bumblebee scowled, optics dimming forlornly. "Yes it was before the war and no I'm not telling you. I don't care how confidential you keep it, it's just… not your business."

Ratchet decided to let up a little given the dark tone he'd somehow pulled out of the usually upbeat yellow bot.

Bumblebee lifted both servos to cover his faceplate and let out a soft moan of despair.

"And… what about Sunstreaker… is he alright? What happened… why was he…"

The little black servos dragged down the small faceplate and when his optics met Ratchets, the Medic's mirth was completely gone. He even seemed a little… angry. But the anger didn't seem directed at him.

Ratchet ex-vented slowly.

"That's probably the biggest issue, actually. There's something I have to tell you, but it's in complete confidence and _does not leave this room._ "

Bumblebee nodded. Being an espionage agent, secret keeping was not something new to him. And something this personal, as it must be for an incident like this to be the only reason he would know… there was no way he would keep the information anywhere but beside his own spark.

"Bumblebee, when Sunstreaker and Sideswipes were only about a vorn old they were abandoned and taken to a sparkling care-home. Many of the care workers were minibots, they tended to be thought of as better at relating to sparklings… which you would know best is not really the case given most of their personalities, but that was the processing at the time. The point is, Sunstreaker was not the easiest of Sparklings to handle, according to the records that were kept. What the records never said was the method of 'discipline' they used on him."

By now Ratchet's faceplate was grim with sorrow, and the beetle was absolutely dreading what he was about to hear… he did have the feeling it might explain several things about the golden twin, but what came next was even beyond what he imagined.

"He was sexually abused, Bumblebee. It was more than one carer, and they would always separate him completely from the other sparklings when they did it. Including Sideswipe, but they didn't know about the bond between them. It went on for at least 5 orns before Sideswipe's pleas to an outside care worker that happened to visit their centre got an investigation. By then, Sunstreaker was deeply traumatised. It took until he was well into his young adult vorns to properly move past the effects from what was done to him. His 'dislike' of minibots, as everyone knows it, is nothing… _nothing_ compared to how he used to react around them. It's exceptionally good recovery given what happened, even if it seems like an excessive dislike to everyone else."

Bumblebee processed everything Ratchet said, then a confused frown worked onto his faceplate.

"And… what about me then?… How did he even come anywhere _near_ me? He was the one who asked ME that night." Bumblebee suddenly cut himself off with a startled look. He'd never actually told Ratchet about that…

The medic just waved a servo carelessly when he saw the look on the spy's faceplate.

"Don't worry, I know what happened that night, Sideswipe told me. Mostly because he was completely surprised by Sunstreaker's sudden interest in you. He wasn't sure quite how to handle it… he was actually scared Sunstreaker might… do something to you. But up until the incident last night, you were looking like the one bot who might just cure Sunstreakers trauma glitches completely."

Bumblebee swallowed dryly, apprehension creeping unpleasantly through his systems, getting worse.

"And… now?"

Ratchet's helm bowed with a soft sigh. "Well, you infecting him was at least an effective distraction. He spent the rest of the night with Sideswipe infecting one or two other mechs and then holed up with Bluestreak from what I know. He hasn't been to the medbay, but I've confined him to quarters until I can talk to him. I'm certainly not ready to put you both in a room together to work it out. I don't know just how bad his reaction will be to the incident yet. Sideswipe recommended I not let you see him for at least a few joors… he doesn't want you to get hurt, he knows it wasn't your fault."

Bumblebee lay staring at the ceiling, horrified. He had had no idea… NO idea whatsoever that Sunstreaker had been through something like that. Suddenly he felt like he had deserved every game of toss the minibot he'd ever been dragged into… a tiny price to pay for the golden twin's violation at the hands of mechs like him…

_No, not like me_ _…_ _that_ _'_ _s probably why he liked me, because I_ _'_ _m not like any of the other minibots. And I_ _'_ _d never, NEVER hurt a mech like that_ _…_

_But you did,_ a tiny voice popped up in the back of his CPU. _Last night you practically went on a raping rampage, its just that it was your friends so they didn_ _'_ _t count it as Rape_ _…_ _except for Sunny._

"Primus Ratchet what am I going to _do_ _…"_

"Well, you can start by not blaming yourself, because the mission accident was an _accident_ from what Mirage could tell us. Also, don't move your aft off that berth until I say so because the overload you got from Prime totally slagged your fuel pump and half your sensory circuits and wiring burnt out. Not to mention all the ruptured coolant lines. Now you're up though, Jazz and Mirage are going to want to come in so you can give your mission report and they can debrief you, at which point I will kick them out for you to get more rest. You're off duty until further notice."

Feeling the blissful wash of the pain killer starting to take effect through his systems, Bumblebee still couldn't help the nagging sensation of dread in his tanks.

"Ratch… how many mechs got infected? You said Sunstreaker and Sideswipe infected others after I…well, y'know…"

Ratchet looked thoughtful, rubbing his chin as he tallied up in his head.

"Well, lets see, from what I've been able to tell… Jazz and Prowl were confined, so they just kept to each other… Sunstreaker got Sideswipe and the two of them got Smokescreen and Bluestreak… then Smokescreen got Tracks and Blaster, and they got Mirage. I locked Wheeljack in his quarters but he got out and got Skyfire, and then they both got Perceptor, and then Skyfire went and got Silverbolt but thank _Primus_ the effects weren't too overwhelming passed on that far, or I suspect the aerial gestalt would have taken it beyond their quarters, but as it is, they didn't… Also, I'm not entirely sure who got Ironhide, but he got Inferno, who got Red Alert. And… yep, I think that's about it."

Ratchet was very hard pressed not to laugh at the open mouthed, undisguised horror on Bumblebee's faceplate.

"Ratchet… you do realise I am probably going to crawl into the air-vents and never show myself again after this don't you?"

The medic couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Oh don't be ridiculous, I'd just send Steeljaw In to drag you out. Relax Bumblebee, the source of the drug isn't going to be disclosed to any mech that doesn't already know, and they've been told to keep it confidential, _or else._ "

Bumblebee, for once, was thankful for the nasty gleam in the CMO's optics. "Or else what?" he asked curiously.

"They'll get reformatted into something that doesn't prevent them doing their job but sure as frag embarrasses the scrap out of them. Like an ice-cream van or a valentines day float. Right, now your pain killers are working, I'll go get Mirage and Jazz. I don't think I have to tell you not to laugh at how they're walking this morning."

* * *

"So ya think the 'Cons are probably gonna bring in one triple changer and one new seeker trine." Jazz frowned direly, gazing at nothing and rubbing a finger over his chin.

"Yes. I think they're bringing in the extra troops simply because they think _we_ _'_ _re_ doing that, and now we'll probably have to just because they are." Bumblebee sighed.

Mirage nodded. "We weren't, but you know Ironhide was talking about the hypotheticals of who we might bring if we had to only about three earth weeks ago. He was on patrol with me, and I wouldn't mind betting some 'Con spies overheard us and thought we were serious." Mirage offlined his optics and rubbed his fore helm.

Bumblebee frowned. "That isn't the worst of it though. We still don't know who Skywarp was talking about just before Ravage got me."

The other's faceplates got even more serious.

"Ya right about that. You said he mentioned physical traits, could we at least narrow it down?"

The yellow spy gave Jazz an apologetic look. "All I got was 'pointy headed one', 'his sweet spark' and 'black aft'. That could be any NUMBER of mechs here. Sounds like they want to target a known couple though." He replayed the recording for them without being asked, and they listened intently for anything that could help them discern the exact targets of the jet trine's ire.

Mirages optics flashed and a look of comprehension dawned on his faceplate.

"The most obvious candidates have got to be the Twins though… the Seekers hate them most, obviously, and they're spark siblings so of course they're known to be close… pointy head? That would be Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe's hip plating is black…" The reality of just what Skywarp had been saying hit Mirage and he looked disgusted. "By Primus, they want to rape the twins? That… that really doesn't bear processing. I knew 'Cons were sick, but…"

He shuddered and Jazz patted his shoulder with a sombre look.

"I'm afraid it ain't unheard of mech. Hasn't happened in a real long time, but it's certainly not a new tactic of the 'Cons."

Bumblebee shuddered at the thought, frowning deeply, and Jazz threw him a reassuring look of comfort. The minibot knew first hand how some Seekers could be predisposed to such unsavoury desires.

"So… that's it then, isn't it? That recurrent mission setup is totally slagged. We'll have to make up a whole new strategy." Bumblebee sighed hopelessly, resting his helm in his servos, elbow joints on knees.

"Yea, but it ain't ya fault bug. You couldn't of known Soundwave was onto us and fixin' those casseti-clowns double time. You did a good job." Jazz reached out and patted his arm gently, and all Bumblebee could do was throw him another apologetic look… right now he'd like nothing more than to curl into the Porsche's chest plates and not leave that warm soothing presence for several cycles, but he couldn't so much as give Jazz a suggestive look with Mirage around. Not if he wanted his relationship with the TIC and SIC to remain a secret for the most part.

"I did well right up to the point where I got myself overdosed with Seeker aphrodisiac, yea."

Jazz couldn't help the small smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth. "Aw now that weren't so bad though. Well, don't get me wrong, it wasn't great for you, but relax Bee… none of the mechs ya infected in the first place would ever tell anyone else it was you that did it, and all the rest know is they had a pretty slaggin' good night with their best friends and lovers. I think it was kind of a pick me up actually."

Mirage made a scoffing sound. "At least, we'll appreciate it more when all our equipment stops hurting."

The three couldn't help a small laugh, Bumblebee the only one not wincing from the action, but only because he was still on pain killers.

"At least you probably still had most of your own right mind about you for the whole deal." Bumblebee muttered sheepishly.

Mirage did one of his strange half-snorts, yet another mannerism he wasn't accustomed to and always tried to stop himself doing halfway through. "Oh I could think straight about how I shouldn't have been doing it, I just didn't care. But that of course was a by-product of the narcotic. Hound was very disappointed Ratchet made him stay in the medbay and not go with me though." The ligier said slyly, and Jazz chuckled deeply.

"Probably a good thing. We need at least one mech able to go out on patrol. I mean look at me, I ain't exactly a novice at this, but I can't walk straight and I'm not sure Prowl's gonna wanna walk at all."

"So who got you?" Mirage asked the saboteur with a smirk.

Jazz gave him a wide innocent grin. "Ah, now, mech. That'd be tellin'."

Bumblebee felt a moment of apprehension as Mirage pouted.

"Aw, come on Jazz. I know I saw Bluestreak pass us in Track's and Blasters quarters, he looked in and then left. He went for you, didn't he? I know he's close to Prowl and he adores you… and you know I can keep a secret." The noble-mech's optics glittered pleadingly.

Jazz shrugged and dimmed his visor. "OK Raj, ya got us… but don' go talkin' to him about it, he's already upset enough as it is about Ironhide, ain't his fault he wanted to show the big red softie his appreciation."

Mirage actually giggled, Bumblebee just smiled and threw Jazz a thankful look.

The door whooshed open and Ratchet stomped in with a data pad in hand, looking up from it and raising an optic ridge.

"I'm guessing from all the grins plastered on your faceplates that the debrief is over, so now you've had a nice little social consult to boot, you two can get the frag out and give Bumblebee some peace and quiet to rest."

The Porsche and Ligier nodded obediently and each gave Bumblebee a smile and a pat on the shoulder before leaving, Ratchet on their heels.

"Oh, Ratchet, before you go…"

The red and white mech turned curiously to the spy as he settled back, quite content to get some more recharge time.

"…apparently it was Bluestreak. He seems to admire Ironhide the same way I admire Optimus."

Ratchet's orbital ridges rose and he chuckled. "Awww. So ol' Hide was just trying to protect the kid's dignity. Didn't know he was THAT big of a softy."

* * *

The 'Fragging Incident' as it came to be known, remained mostly a mystery to the majority of the crew for the next orn or so. It was another five joors since that night before Bumblebee was allowed to leave the med-bay, but he was off duty for 10 days, after which Ratchet would assess his readiness for light duties.

Bumblebee, however, wasn't able to enjoy the thought of 10 days of rest… not when he had to debrief with Optimus Prime and the rest of the command staff about the compromised mission and the fact they now had to find a new way to replace their best means of intelligence gathering.

"Don't be nervous Bee. Ya know Optimus is too professional to even give a hint about anythin' that happened during the fraggin' incident. S' not like he's gonna get all shy n fidgety around ya like you're gonna do around him."

The saboteur had chuckled the night before in his quarters, the spy punching him on the arm for his facetiousness.

"Jazz, I don't think continually enforcing the name is going to help him feel any better." Prowl had said calmly, resting his chin on the yellow helm. He had wrapped himself around the beetle in his lap, and Bumblebee was enjoying the soothing rumble of the tacticians engine through his frame. It certainly eased the aches of the fresh welds setting and the new circuits and components settling into use.

Jazz lay back with his helm effectively in both his lovers laps at the same time, looking up at them upside-down with a lilting smile.

"Aaaw, come on now Bee, it really ain't so bad. Everyone thinks the 'Cons planted the drugs on ya during the escape and some other bot spread it. 'Course a couple of the minibots are sayin' ya stole it from some o' the 'Cons and someone else stole it from you and used it not knowin' how potent it was. Either way, no one believes it would be you sneakin' around spikin' and spreadin' the love."

Bumblebee flicked Jazz's nasal ridge with a pout before resuming his petting of the black horns.

"While it's just great that everyone still sees me as the innocent sparkling-" (Prowl snickered at Bumblebee's deadpan tone) "- that doesn't change the fact I still have to talk to all the other bots I spiked… I mean Primus, I don't even know if Sunny can forgive me… never mind not being able to even look 'Jack or Optimus in the optic again."

"I seriously doubt either Wheeljack or Optimus will stand for a lasting awkwardness towards you or vice-versa. As to Sunstreaker… I think with time he'll heal enough for you both to work out the issue between you. I don't think he or Sideswipe want this accident to come between you, not given what you said about Sideswipe thinking you might just be the mech to help give him closure on his ordeal."

Bumblebee made a non-committal noise at Prowl, eager to put off the thought of any such confrontation until at least the heat had gone out of the whole situation.

"Well, sounds to me like Soundwave was already suspicious of our ability to gather information and thwart their schemes every time his cassettes were all out of commission. Really, we all knew it was a matter of time, I'm honestly surprised the mission was repeated so many times before any of the 'Cons caught on." The response to Mirage was somewhat disappointed agreement all around. After Bumblebee had reported his findings from directly before the cassetticons return to function, they had all come to the conclusion that Soundwave's behaviour had been deliberate, and he'd worked doubly hard to speed up his normal rate of repair to flush out the Nemesis' unknown temporary Autobot resident.

None of them were placing the blame on the yellow spy of course. After so many missions with no signs of suspicion from the 'Cons for so long, it was clear he had always done his job to the absolute best of his abilities. Their disappointment was mostly to do with the fact they couldn't use that mission plan to gather information now it had been sussed out by their enemy.

Apart from anything else, they were mostly just grateful Bumblebee got out in one piece…which was really the best outcome, despite what HAD come about as a result of his frantic escape.

Now however, the part Bumblebee dreaded was coming up. He had to explain what he remembered of the end of his mission to the command staff and assignment team-mates.

Taking a leaf out of Prowl's book, the spy composed his faceplates into carefully maintained calm before continuing his personal report.

"Well, as soon as I realised they were up and running again, I started evading Ravage first and foremost. Rumble and Frenzy wouldn't know stealth if it hit them in the face-plate with a laser guided missile, so they really aren't that hard to avoid. I contacted Mirage to initiate an emergency escape. I was hoping to get out via the usual entry-exit point, but Ravage got between it and me. Code Black seemed to make more sense because I could have just led them to the usual breech point and compromised its future viability, plus them being operational meant they already suspected I was there, so they were already expecting something like a hole blown out of their ship."

"That's fine Bumblebee. Your use of Code Black is supported as entirely suitable by the rest of the command staff and both Jazz and Mirage signed off on it with their approval as well." Optimus said calmly, digits lacing together as he leant on the meeting room table.

Bumblebee still couldn't look him in the optic, but he nodded and replied "Thankyou sir." as normally as ever.

"I read the mission report brief, but I'm still not entirely clear on how ya got from evadin' Ravage to landin' in Skywarps quarters." Ironhide spoke up, a slight frown of confusion on his faceplates as he sat back at ease with his arms customarily crossed over his windshield.

"Yea, sorry about that. Directional notes are protocol but they're not very clear to read." Bumblebee apologised, launching into his verbal re-cap once more. "Basically I engaged in evasive tactics, moving wherever I could to avoid detection, unfortunately that didn't leave much chance for me to figure out where I was most of the time so I put down a movement log to try and overlay it with the Nemesis' vent layout. I still couldn't quite figure out in retrospect my exact path, but eventually I made my way up to their elevation tower and left a fake scent marker for Ravage to make him think I tried to exit there. Unfortunately he didn't take it, and on my way to exit point Delta I overheard Skywarp and stopped to listen. That's where he caught up."

"On the topic of that, Prime. We did try to nut out who we thought the Seekers had been talkin' about attackin'. Our main suspicion is The Twins. Given the vague descriptions and concluding' that they would likely hold a pretty strong grudge against 'em, I recommend keepin' 'em covered in battle for a while, and putting a leash on the Jet Judo too. I'll talk to them about the risk, they won't kick up a fuss once they know the intel behind it all." Jazz spoke up levelly, and Optimus nodded slowly.

"Very well Jazz, if you could do that as soon as possible. Did you have any other crew members you should alert to watch for suspicious targeting by the Seekers? Just in case, despite the fact it's unlikely, Starscreams trine were not talking about the Twins."

Jazz nodded solemnly. "Yea, not that I need to , but Red, you and Inferno better keep yer guard up, you two were the only other mechs we could figure might be the targets. Starscream might still be holdin' that old grudge of his against ya."

The Security Director nodded grimly and sighed. "It wouldn't surprise me, but thankyou Jazz. I'll tell Inferno when I return to the security centre."

Optimus nodded and the attention of the meeting returned once more to Bumblebee, who despite keeping a calm demeanour, was cringing inside, given he'd finally come to the part where the 'fragging incident' had all begun. He cycled a quiet ventilation and continued.

" Well, I was just reporting back to Mirage about the information and possibly following it up as much as I could before getting out when Ravage got the drop on me… kinda literally. When he pounced me, we hit the vent grate hard enough to smash through and fell into Skywarps quarters. Unfortunately he'd left his 'cones' all over his berth, and one punctured into my left hip seam. Ravage got a dose from one too from what I could hear, and I ended up rolling onto the floor. A few of the cones had scattered and when I rolled again to avoid Ravage, another one punctured into a line under my right shoulder joint. The effects were fairly immediate and started impairing my cooling systems and processing."

Bumblebee continued with his blow by blow account, detailing as much as he could remember of his escape. The others listened intently, even though they had read the written report which contained pretty much the same information. It was a tedious but crucial part of Special Ops debriefing. In retelling everything as it happened, the rest of the command staff could pick things up that perhaps the operative themselves had missed during their mission. Details like where a mech was when the infiltrator came across them, what they were doing, how they reacted. Things Bumblebee may not have noticed about the mechs around him while running for his life might well be seen as very relevant by one of the others.

He continued up to the point where he wasn't really remembering things anymore, which had been close to the time Skyfire had picked up Hound, Mirage and Himself.

"So why's the report stop there?" Asked Ironhide, sounding slightly disappointed.

Bumblebee willed his faceplate not to heat up and kept his expression neutral. "Because that's where the mission officially ended. The rest was medical, and that's a different report." He answered simply.

"A confidential report, I might add. If you're looking to get answers about how the cyber-narcotic from the cones in Skywarp's room spread from Bumblebee to half the crew Ironhide, I'm afraid you're not going to get them." Ratchet said, tone cool but with a warning edge.

Ironhide gave a grimace that for him passed as a pout. "Aaaaw, so ahm not gonna know who got poor 'Blue? Kid can't even look me in the optics or talk to me straight since the 'Fragg'n Incident'."

"Come on 'Hide, that one's obvious anyway." Jazz said easily with a crooked grin.

"Oh yea? Why, was it you?" The weapons specialist snickered, making Jazz laugh.

"Naw mech, everyone knows it was the Twins. Where you been, under a rock fer fifty millions years or something'?"

The red van chuckled deeply at that and shook his helm. "Is that so? Well then, who got you?"

Bumblebee felt a shiver of anticipation, optics darting to Prowl, who had simultaneously looked his way for a nanoklik.

Jazz just grinned wider and tapped the side of his nasal ridge. "Now that there's a secret 'Hide. Gave mah scouts honour not t' tell. Apart from that, the mech would probably get me back somethin' fierce if I did."

"This is _hardly_ a meeting appropriate topic anyway, Ironhide." Prowl said coolly, scrolling through the notes on his data pad and shooting the red mech a stern glance.

Ironhide responded with a wicked grin. "Ya mean yer not even curious who made Jazz give ya so much love ya couldn't walk straight?"

The tactician's only change in expression when Jazz and Ironhide failed to stifle their chuckles was a slight rise of his orbital ridge.

It was oh so tempting to retort with the possibility that someone had actually gotten him before they'd gotten Jazz… and what's more, it was the truth, but he didn't want to start up a whole new line of speculation for the gossipers. He went with the second best reply that came to his processor instead.

"No, I do not really need to know who caused it THIS time."

Ironhide looked like he'd been slapped in the face with some kind of bizarre object by his expression, and Jazz really couldn't prevent his fit of giggles.

Optimus made a motion as though to roll his optics and Red Alert gave the SIC a 'gee, thanks for that' sort of look. Bumblebee stifled his own grin, and it was Mirage who had to get them all back on track in the end.

"If we're all finished being Sparklings, I'd like to draw attention to the fact that we're probably going to have to bring down more troops from Cybertron in response to Megatrons own resources pull."

Optimus nodded, picking up the cue to change topic, and they all launched into a discussion of the teams they knew, and who would be most appropriate.

* * *

Eventually, Not much was decided, and Prime concluded they would need to confer with their contacts of Autobot forces on Cybertron to really be able to decide who it would be best to bring… and who could actually come, given the forces on Cybertron were fairly hard pressed as it was.

When the meeting was finally adjourned, Bumblebee meant to tag along with Mirage to the rec. room, but Jazz waylaid him.

"Bee I just gotta run through somethin' with ya, then I can let ya go to the rec. room. Shouldn't take too long."

Ever trusting of the saboteur, the minibot was quite happy to walk with him wherever it was they were going. He tried not to smile too widely, wondering if this wasn't just a cover for something of a more personal nature.

Unfortunately, what he had failed to notice was Wheeljack being led along in a similar manner. And because he was busy talking to Jazz about possible recruits from Cybertron in greater detail, he also failed to notice they had just gone the long way around to another, smaller planning room.

As soon as they entered and he looked up to spot Ratchet and Wheeljack already there though, the light went on in the beetle's processor.

Before he could even make an excuse, the door lock clicked behind him, and he turned to glare at Jazz, who merely beamed widely.

"Aw don' gimmie that look, this was all Prowl's plan, I'm jus' executin' it. That's our job, remember?"

He ended up laughing at the scowl Bumblebee gave him in response.

"Anyway, without an intervention, this would just get ridiculous, so you're talking about it now or we'll just talk about it for you from what we know."

Ratchet ended up laughing as well when both Bumblebee and Wheeljack turned their iresome glares on him. The humour in it being mostly from the fact neither the engineer or the minibot were very good at pulling off cross looks.

Eventually, the two managed to gather enough bolts to look each other in the optic. Both wore sheepish, apologetic expressions. Wheeljack shuffled a pede nervously, and Bumblebee awkwardly fidgeted with his servos.

Ratchet just moved his helm as if rolling his optics.

"I'm sorry I fragged your processor out Wheeljack. Oh, that's OK Bumblebee, I actually really enjoyed it, but we don't have to kiss to make up. OK Wheeljack, let's just go along like nothing happened."

The deadpan simulated conversation from the CMO broke the tension and Bumblebee couldn't help but smile goofily, Wheeljack's helm lights flashing a colour that indicated he was doing the same under his blast mask.

"Uuuh… yea… kinda what he said." The chief engineer muttered, rubbing the back of his helm.

"I am really sorry Wheeljack. Just to clarify, I don't… I haven't… thought of you THAT way… not for a long time, not that you're not, you know… it's just… you're my friend and… thought you'd be more into mechs who get stuff you do and uh-"

"Bee, mech, quit diggin a hole ya don't need." Jazz chuckled, crossing his arms and shaking his helm.

Bumblebee's faceplate flushed a dull red and he bit his lip-plate.

Wheeljack actually laughed lightly and moved to clap him on the shoulder the way he had a million times before. "Aw, Don't worry about it Bee. I was the same. As a friend though, and negating the fact I couldn't really move, can I get your honest opinion on how I rate? Y'know, against other mechs. I mean, you'd know best after-"

"'Jack!" Bumblebee swatted his friend, but laughed all the same, his embarrassment ebbing. He gave the cheery lancia a calculating fake glare and crossed his arms, pretending to be thoughtful.

"Well, the immobilisation thing doesn't matter, because so was everyone else. But if I had to pick out the most notable things… the lights were pretty, but I never thought you'd make that much noise."

The two of them cracked up in juvenile giggling fits. Jazz and Ratchet caught each others optics and nodded in satisfaction. Pretty much just as Prowl predicted, timing and all.

"I'd… hehe… I'd give you a performance assessment, but since you were under the influence I guess your score is disqualified." Wheeljack chuckled, and Bumblebee could only snort and laugh more in response.

"Alright younglings, mission accomplished, off to the rec. room with you and once you've had your energon, it's quiet time for you." Ratchet said with his usual wry humour, shepherding them out of the room.

* * *

"Hey, Bee."

"Oh… hey Sides. What's up?" Bumblebee looked up and gave the red Lamborghini a hopeful look, but Sunstreaker was not with his brother, and Sideswipe gave him a subdued smile.

"How is he?" Bumblebee asked quietly over his cube. They were currently nearly the only ones in there. At the opposite end of the rec. room, Trailbreaker and Hoist were chatting over their own cubes, having come off shift. Bee was due to go back on duty in another 7 joors, but at the moment he was refuelling before a shooting match with Bluestreak and Jazz.

Sideswipe gave a half shrug. "He's OK. He's got codes to stop memory defrag during recharge. He's still a bit out of sorts if he's not concentrating on something though. Won't leave our room right now other than to do his patrol shifts. He's worried he'll lash out at the first minibot he sees if I'm not there to stop him."

It was clear Sideswipe was trying to keep up an air of normalcy, of some sort of good spirit, but he sagged with every word to the beetle. Clearly, he had few to talk about the matter with. Bumblebee was just glad he actually WAS talking to him about it and didn't hold a grudge.

The beetle put his servo on one of the black-armoured arms.

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to him? Something… I don't know… let him vent on me somehow? You know I can take a beating, if it comes to that, I just want to do something to fix this, it's my fault he's remembering it all."

Sideswipe shook his helm slightly, and patted Bumblebee's servo lightly in a show of sincerity and affection that was rare for him.

"He doesn't _want_ to hurt you. He would have talked to you by now, but he's worried he won't be able to control himself. He doesn't blame you, not in his spark, but he also can't help the link his processor has made. I already talked to Ratchet about it, and he said something along the lines of re-associating you with positive things in Sunstreaker's meta. We're still not entirely sure how to do that safely though. I think all we can do is give it some time for the moment."

Bumblebee nodded.

* * *

Back in the twin's quarters, Sunstreaker lay on his berth, absorbing everything Sideswipe was sending through the bond. It had been Sideswipe's idea to slowly re-associate his brother with the Beetle using their spark link as a mediator.

In the golden mech's opinion, it was one of his brother's more brilliant ideas.

Separated by several rooms distance, the most the red twin could share across their link was what he was hearing and the flashes of a few images of his view of Bumblebee.

Sunstreaker hated the mix of emotions roiling within him at the visions he grasped and the sounds of the conversation.

Bumblebee's voice didn't hurt to hear. It felt… spark warming to hear the genuine concern… for _him._

Yeah, he knew other mechs on the Ark liked him really, as much as they growled at him or complained about his vanity or chided his vicious fighting nature. But none of them ever treated him like he required concern or… dare he admit it, care.

The golden mech's faceplate twisted bitterly.

If only they knew just how emotionally messed up he was. It wasn't like he was a sensitive mess that took everything to spark all the time, or broke down behind closed doors at the tiniest things. Most of the time, he was OK really, but if a certain something struck a sore circuit in him, it took ages for him to sort out his systems. To feel normal and content again… he hated it. Utterly. And he couldn't change it. The programming instilled in him at an early age by the abandonment of him and his brother, and his subsequent abuse at the servos of those…

Sunstreaker ventilated deeply and dragged his palms over his faceplate, off lining his optics.

He wasn't going to think about that. He was not. He wouldn't let that attach itself to Bumblebee.

Another image of the beetle as he talked to Sideswipe flashed across his meta.

His tanks gave a sick churn at the same time as his spark throbbed with pain and longing.

What he knew of the spy and what he'd felt for him recently mixed with the old ingrained negativity he'd associated with other minibots.

The yellow mech's sincere optics and regretful tone made Sunstreaker ache to talk to him, but the sight of a minibot's servo touching his brother's arm plating… the memory of how those servos had touched him when he couldn't move and the way similar servos had held him down when he'd been too young and weak to fight it made a sickening anger stab through him.

Sunstreaker rolled to his pedes and paced the room, rubbing roughly at the centre of his helm.

Ugh! He HATED this! He hated feeling this way, thinking these thoughts, why couldn't he just let it go! It was SO long ago, and frankly if it didn't keep bringing up bad memories, he'd have LIKED what Bumblebee had done to him, and the beetle hadn't been able to help it! So WHY couldn't his programming just CHANGE? Why wouldn't his own CPU listen to what his processing and spark was telling it? He liked Bumblebee! The mech was NOT the same as the sick slaggers from the sparkling home. He felt disgusted with himself for even making the connection on a subconscious level.

He just wanted to feel normal… didn't want this to hurt, didn't want to be weak to his emotions.

The golden mech was suddenly aware of a soothing sensation, and realised he had been projecting.

He calmed himself down enough to make an apologetic brush against his twin's calming presence.

Then, quite suddenly, Sideswipe projected a new feeling to him.

Sunstreaker couldn't quite understand it at first… it was somewhere around his middle, but it felt like pressure… nice pressure, comforting, but what…

And then Sideswipe sent him the image of what he was feeling.

Bumblebee was hugging the red twin. Bumblebee hugging anyone wasn't an odd thing. The small mech had always been servos-on with shows of support and comfort.

It felt… much better than he'd thought it would, when he didn't feel a hint of revulsion from the projected image and feelings.

Maybe… it would get better. Maybe he wouldn't be defective forever.

* * *

"So I guess your heat was kicked fairly well after the virus thing huh?" Bumblebee muttered, drawing patterns on the datsun's arm as they lay sprawled on Jazz's extended berth. Prowl turned his helm to the beetle with a glint in his optics and the ghost of a coy smile on his lips. "Would it disappoint you if I said yes?"

Jazz chuckled from where he sat on the floor, sorting through some new music CD's Spike had gotten him while on holiday. The little human had returned the day before Bumblebee was due to go back on duty, having been on an around the world trip with Carly. The spy's small friend knew nothing of the events that had taken place in his absence, and Bumblebee intended for it to stay that way for as long as possible.

He was back on shift in the morning, and the three had decided to share the recharge cycle together before they became busy again.

Bumblebee gave the tiniest hint of a pout, but his reply was light and careless.

"Of course not, I was just curious. I figured if you weren't then you might not feel like watching that recording I made on your comms shift a few orns ago."

Jazz's helm whipped around, dropping the CD he was holding into the earth-to-cybertronian music ripper/burner Wheeljack had made him.

Prowl's door wings flicked up on his back in a way reminiscent of a dog pricking it's ears.

"Oh… well I don't have to be in any sort of heat to enjoy a good home holo-vid."

He fairly purred, and grinning, Bumblebee fished the device out of his subspace.

Jazz was a step ahead of him, whipping out his projection set.

They plugged the recording device into the holo-vid player and pointed it at the reflective canvas the saboteur had hung on the wall opposite his berth.

The two officers settled with their back-plates against the wall, Bumblebee between them, and the holographic recording began to play, seemingly in thin air, but that was the trick of the reflective screen.

Either way, it made the mini movie all the more enjoyable to be in simulated 3D as opposed to the flat screens used for Teletrann.

Servos wandered as the vid played, and before it had ever finished, Bumblebee had ended up in Jazz's Lap somehow with Prowl teasing his panel and the Porsche sucking one of his helm horns enthusiastically.

They hadn't actually interfaced since the 'fragging incident', and Bumblebee wouldn't have minded if they hadn't felt like it tonight, but slag it if his CPU hadn't started fantasising more and more the longer he tried to abstain.

Apparently though, he hadn't been the only one.

While Bumblebee was distracted by a particularly hard lick from Jazz's glossa on his helm, the saboteur and tactician worked together to quickly slip the spy's servos behind his back and cuff them in place. Bumblebee gasped, optics surging and back arching automatically when he tested the strength of the cuffs. His engine revved and his lovers smirked wickedly together.

"We've been planning a little payback for you… since you got to immobilise us, we figured you wouldn't mind trying a little bondage yourself." Prowl purred in his audio, slipping talented, teasing digits down the yellow frame as he heard his stifled overload on the holo-vid still playing behind them.

Jazz's engine revved and he moved his legs, causing Bumblebee to spread his own.

The minibot gave a high pitched moan, letting them position him however they pleased.

Another skilled servo, this one belonging to the Porsche, was between his forced open thighs, rubbing exquisitely against his panel. Prowl had begun working down his chassis with his glossa, paying particular attention to his windows.

The spy was a keening, whimpering mess by the time the tactician reached his panel, where he and Jazz slid away the plating to reveal the beetle's interface array. Lubricant had been pooling beneath it, and dripped down onto Jazz's berth, making Prowl moan appreciatively.

Both black and whites opened their own codpieces before they continued to tease the spy.

Bumblebee cried out and quivered as the two put a digit of each of their servos into his port together without preamble.

The slide of their unmatched rhythms over his inner nodes made him buck and whine, trying to move to get more of the blissful sensations infusing his frame, but Prowl and Jazz used their free servos to still his hips. They certainly WERE paying him back…

And then something quite unexpected happened.

Someone pinged his comm. Link.

Bumblebee would have ignored them and feigned recharge…

But it was Sunstreaker.

Biting his lip-plate, he decided to risk opening the communication channel while still quivering from the feeling of the officers digits plunging erratically into him.

**Sunny?**

**Hey Bee. Sides reckoned I should start talking to you like this. No risk of hurting you** **…** **I wanted to talk about things** **…** **he said you wanted to as well** **…** **so** **…** **?**

Bumblebee gasped and mewled, writhing as Prowl found and concentrated on a set of nodes as far into his valve as he could reach. Some small part of his meta was able to process how awkward Sunstreaker sounded, clearly not that used to talking out emotional issues with others. The minibot's spark went out to him even as his fans whirred from his lovers ministrations.

**I** **…** **I do want to talk, I really do** **…** **you know I didn** **'** **t mean to, I know you do, but I have to say sorry. I never wanted to hurt you I** **…** **couldn** **'** **t control myself.**

It was a hard job, keeping even his digital, closed tone from being effected by what was happening to him physically. Jazz had just started mouthing the back of his neck, and he bowed his body to expose the back of his neck more, simultaneously pressing Prowl's digits deeper. He whined as the pleasure made a little static feedback through his comm. Channel.

**Yea I know you are** **…** **s** **'** **not your fault. I don** **'** **t** **…** **blame you, really, I know I don** **'** **t, but I** **…** **I can** **'** **t help the programme glitch** **…** **I still don** **'** **t think I could see you yet and not** **…** **Bee are you OK? Is something wrong?**

Bumblebee moaned and bucked again as Prowl and Jazz both added another digit each, stretching him and teasing nodes in ways he'd never felt before.

**Sorry** **…** **Sunny, I do want to talk** **…** **with you** **…** **but timing is, um** **…** **oh** _**frag** _ _**…** _

Bumblebee really couldn't help letting the pleasured exclamation slip into his comm. call, not realising he'd digitally uttered it rather than out loud until it was too late.

It was the only clue, apparently, that Sunstreaker needed.

**Are you** **…** **wait** **…** **are you in the middle of an Interface?** **…**

The toughliners coy tone relieved the spy… he had feared for a moment that Sunstreaker might be put off, maybe offended, or it might set back his chances to talk over their issues. But apparently, the golden twin was almost gleeful about catching him in the middle of a frag.

**Uuh** **…** **k-kind of** **…** **yes** **…** **they um** **…** **they** **'** **ve got me cuffed. S** **'** **payback.**

Bumblebee could have sworn he heard the rev of an engine over the line. He gasped and keened out loud as two sets of two digits began pumping him in counterpoint, his port rippling over them as they got a little faster.

**Ah, the two mystery lovers** **…** **So I** **'** **ve caught them in the act. Hey** **…** **you want to make me feel better? You know we have to associate you with good things in my processor again right?**

**Y-Yeah? I want** **…** **to make it up to you- oooooh primus not there!-**

Bumblebee's engine squealed and he keened loudly as Prowl swirled his glossa around one of his midriff hot-spots briefly.

The beetle heard a soft snicker over the line… obviously he'd done it again with the projecting of real sound into the line.

**Well, we can start right now** **…** **how about you say everything to them that I tell you to, and see how long it takes them to figure out you** **'** **ve got me on the line?**

Bumblebee shivered, moaning as the TIC and SIC finally removed their digits. Clearly, as they repositioned him and re-inserted their fingers, they still had no idea he was talking to anyone via comm. link… and how could he deny Sunstreaker? Even if he didn't feel that he owed him so much, that sultry tone and his current state of arousal would have been all the convincing he needed.

**Okay** **…** **what do you want me to say?**

Bumblebee bucked and his optics flashed as the toughliner instructed him secretly. He gasped, working up his courage against the heady pleasure of his port being ravished to say his lines right.

"Oooooh… if you w-want to punish me…nnngh! Pro-properly… then I should be fragged like a c-cyber wolf…. Uuunh…."

Both Prowl and Jazz seemed slightly taken aback by the beetles words, sharing a wide optic's glance, before Jazz's engine growled… and so did his vocaliser.

"Ooooh is that so? Better be careful whatcha get yerself in for Bee… ah've had experience with that kinda punishment. You sure you've been baaaad enough to deserve it?"

The purr in his tone and the way Prowl nipped at the edges of his hip-plates made Bumblebee quiver with anticipation.

Bumblebee relayed Jazz's words himself without revealing his lovers identity, and Sunstreaker's answer was immediate, and apparently amused.

"Mmmmmm, yea… f-fragged so many bots… better claim me properly… mechs might start thinking I'm a berth hopper…"

Prowl chuckled at this, and ran his glossa all the way up Bumblebee's front, digit still rubbing slowly with Jazz's inside his valve, making the spy writhe.

"I doubt that any of them think you're open slather… but I like the idea of claiming you…"

Bumblebee once again repeated his lovers words to his secret dictator and felt a flush of heat rush through him at the golden twin's next directions.

"To decide… wh-who claims me first… I guess you two better fight for dominance… and put me in my place by making me watch… from underneath."

Bumblebee moaned as their digits delved deeper and slower, but the sound was as much a reaction to their ministrations as what Sunstreaker was explaining he wanted him to do. He was very good at giving detailed descriptions of positions.

Jazz chuckled softly in his audio. "Love this roleplay kink o' yours Bee, but what position exactly do you have in processor?"

The spy whispered to him what the golden Twin had outlined secretly. Jazz's visor lit up and he gave the nearest yellow horn a lick and a nip.

"Primus I love that dirty little CPU o' yours."

Jazz proceeded to lay the beetle down on his back, unlocking the cuffs only to put them on again once he'd placed Bumblebee's servos over his helm. He and Prowl then knelt either side of the minibot and glossa wrestled to decide who would be fragging who over the spy's faceplates. In the end, apparently Prowl won… neither of the black and whites were any the wiser that Bumblebee was describing the events in depth over his comm. to a purring Sunstreaker. He wasn't letting slip who his lovers were, of course, but the Lamborghini didn't seem to care about that.

When they were done kissing, Jazz shuffled up to straddle Bumblebee, fitting his knees snugly to the yellow mech's sides, before Prowl got behind him and straddled the outsides of Jazz's legs, positioning them so their interface units were directly above the spy's faceplates. Prowl bowed Jazz down, and he complied with a purr. Bumblebee moaned and squirmed at the sight of Jazz's dripping valve and twitching spike above him… so near, but just out of reach. Prowl's own unit came into view rather quickly as the tactician lined himself up.

Unbelievable lust coursed through the minibot and he gasped, watching from his front row seat as Prowl slowly penetrated Jazz, growling deeply from his engine as the saboteur moaned.

Bumblebee keened softly himself, cooling fans buzzing to life as the Datsun slowly hilted himself, before drawing out, spike slick with the Porsche's translucent purple lubricant.

**Primus Sunstreaker, I fragging love you right now** **…**

There was a chuckle over the line, and then an appreciative hum as Bumblebee sent a black and white zoomed in image capture of his lovers interface units. The minibot couldn't help himself, it was just too hot and he figured he owed it to the golden twin.

**Slag, I could paint that it** **'** **s so gorgeous** **…** **better off making you watch me and Sides do that and get a picture. That would look even better, of course.**

Sunstreaker laughed softly again at the moan Bumblebee replied with to that suggestion.

Bumblebee then squeaked and mewled as something wet and firm suddenly touched his cord.

**AH! S-sunny** **…** **frag he** **'** **s started licking my spike** **…** **oh Primus I** **'** **m not gonna last feeling that and seeing this and- OOOOH!**

The loud howl of pleasure the spy let out when Jazz suddenly deep-intaked him made the saboteur hum in approval.

"Oh Primus almighty Jazz! I-I'm not gonna last if you keep that up!"

Bumblebee puffed through his vents, keening as the Porsche let up a little and went back to teasing him with flicks and laps from his glossa. Prowl had picked up pace now, and Bumblebee keened as he watched their components slide together. Lubricant dripped down onto his faceplate, and he lapped up any that landed near his mouth. He ached to reach up his helm and eat them both up while they went at it, but he just couldn't reach that high.

As if reading his processor, Jazz began sliding his legs apart, which moved Prowl's, and their interfacing equipment got closer to the minibot's faceplates.

As soon as he could, the beetle growled lustfully and craned his neck cables up, careful not to get hit by Prowl's moving pelvis as he swiped his glossa at their arrays.

The Porsche gasped and mewled as Bumblebee licked hard at the base of his spike while Prowl continued driving into him.

Prowl too gasped and moaned when the minibot turned his attention to him. He felt a glossa brushing across the entrance of his port as he moved back and forward. Deciding he'd make it easier for Bumblebee, he magnetised his spike hub and plugged into Jazz smoothly.

He was rewarded with Jazz's moan and Bumblebee's glossa pressing properly into his now still valve.

**Mmmmm, tastes even nicer when it** **'** **s all hot from movement.**

Bumblebee practically purred across his comm. link, glossa buried in the datsun's port.

He then let out a staticy cry into the tactician as Jazz took his whole cord again and sucked hard.

As Overload crashed over him and static burst across his comm. link, he felt Prowl quiver above him, his port rippling as he too overloaded into Jazz, who keened around the minibots spike.

Jazz was right there with them, his own cable buzzing against Bumblebee's chest-plating as charge swept through him.

The three rode the roiling waves of climax until Prowl had to pull him and Jazz up away from the spy before they collapsed on him.

Bumblebee thought briefly he wouldn't have minded that much having their still joined interface components pressed into his faceplate, but his remaining arousal had more to look forward to anyway.

**You still there Bee? Enjoying yourself?**

The beetle moaned softly while he and his lovers took a moment to rest and let their cooling systems stop them from overheating too much. The amusement in the golden mech's voice was undertoned with what was unmistakeably his own arousal.

**Yeeea. Slag** **…** **I really do have to do that with you and** **'** **Sides sometime.**

The approving revv of an engine was audible over the line.

**Speaking of which, he** **'** **s just walked in.**

There was the slight crackle of another line keying into the comm. frequency, and Sideswipe's curious voice joined them.

**What** **'** **s this about you being in the middle of a frag? Don** **'** **t suppose we could get a location and come crash the party?**

Bumblebee fought the urge to laugh and decided instead to purr his engine.

**Sorry** **'** **Sides, no dice. Anyway, Sunstreaker is already involved enough as it is. I** **'** **m his puppet at the moment.**

There was a pleased sounding rev from the red twin at the same time as Jazz groaned in satisfaction.

**Neither of them has done you cyber-wolf style yet have they?**

The minibot re-onlined his optics and they landed on Jazz's deep blue visor and sultry smirk. Bumblebee returned his own look of coy anticipation.

**No, but I have the feeling I** **'** **m about to.**

The yellow mech listened to the golden twin's next instructions as Jazz picked himself up and dragged himself over the spy's frame, engine purring and touches teasing.

"So, sure you've got enough stamina to claim me?" the beetle murmured as seductively as he could.

Jazz chuckled and nipped at Bumblebee's neck cables, making him squirm.

"What do you think, Bug? You're gonna keep feelin' just how mine you are for at least 5 joors."

"How OURS he is… make it an orn that he'll keep feeling it." Came Prowl's deep, satisfied vocals.

Bumblebee moaned softly at the promise and let Jazz position him. He was still cuffed, and he supported his helm and shoulders on his elbows, knees slightly spread and aft elevated just enough for Jazz to line up with his own legs outside of the spy's.

 **Oh, I always wanted some-bot to say this** **…** Sunstreaker made a quick interjection as Bumblebee explained how the saboteur had him.

Bumblebee actually nearly sighed at just how cheesy the line was, but he complied all the same, in his best sexy purr.

"Mmmmm, home Jazz, and don't spare the horses…"

**Where the Frag did you pick that stupid line up Sunny?**

**Humans of course. One of their oldey timey soaps or something, I** **'** **ve always liked it for some reason.**

**Yea, he makes me say it to him sometimes. Guess every bot has to have their one stupid** **'** **facing quirk huh.**

Sideswipe snickered, but all Bumblebee could reply with was a loud keen as Jazz leant over him and started to drive his spike into his over-sensitised port.

His sensors had already been on fire with arousal and nothing touching them… but after his spike overload his internal muscle cables had clenched the valve walls tight and Jazz's thick cord was stretching him so wonderfully, he couldn't help but tremble and cry out.

"You better decide whether you're the dom or the sub here Bee, or I'll decide for ya 'n there'll be no contestin' it." Jazz purred with both amusement and pleasure in his tone.

The spy hadn't realised he'd offlined his optics until soft lip-plating met his own and swallowed his moans.

He onlined them and groaned in a lustful haze as he found Prowl eagerly brushing his glossa against his.

The minibot continued to keen and mewl into the long, heated kiss as Jazz began driving in and out of him powerfully, the black servos resting on the front of his hip plating to press the small yellow pelvis against his with each thrust.

There was a growl from the Porsche's engine, and then a hot glossa lapped across the back of his neck cables. Bumblebee shuddered and gasped, and Prowl's engine purred loudly as the tactician moved away.

The beetle whined at the loss of contact, but then squeaked as the tactician got onto his back in front of him and lifted up his arms. Jazz helped lift the spy, continuing to pump lazily in and out of the small port, while Prowl slid himself in under Bumblebee. The datsun placed Bumblebee's bound servos down on his bumper.

Jazz seemed to know what the other black and white mech was up to, because he manipulated Bumblebee's hips into a better, slightly lower position and began really pounding into him.

The spy cried out loudly as he felt Prowl start to mouth at the hub of his pressurised spike beneath him, and whimpered in ecstasy as Jazz's denta scraped the back of his neck.

He tried to fondle along the datsun's bumper, but the tacticians servos restrained his own so that he really couldn't move between the two mechs.

As always, the restriction sent Bumblebee's arousal into overdrive.

 **Oh frag, oh frag, oh frag, S-sssssu-unnyyyy, they** **'** **ve got me between them and one is pounding me and the other is sucking on the tip of my spike** **and oh Primus almighty I** **'** **m going to** **…**

Bumblebee howled out his overload as Jazz bit the back of his neck cables firmly, driving into him like a jackhammer while Prowl deep-intaked him as the saboteur had done before.

The climax seemed so unprimusly intense he was sure he'd offline, but somehow he managed to stay online long enough for Jazz to magnetise and plug in, flooding him with enough spark energy to send him keening into a secondary overload.

His systems ended up resetting, and by the time his optics flickered back on, Jazz was spooning him and humming satedly while Prowl lay the opposite way, facing him and smiling when he regained lucidity.

"Hope you're not out for the count there… the alpha hasn't had his turn yet." The 2IC purred in a voice that sent a wonderful shiver down the beetles back-strut.

**You still there Bee?**

Sunstreaker's voice was slightly breathless, and Bumblebee's smile widened, Prowl taking it as a signal that he was ready for the next round.

**You sound a bit distracted there Sunny** **…** **Audio show to your liking so far?**

There was a loud moan over the line and Sideswipe laughed into the comm.

**I** **'** **m making sure he enjoys it. Keep telling us what they** **'** **re doing to you, so we can copy it.**

Bumblebee acknowledged and continued a closed comm. running monologue of what he was doing, and what was being done to him.

Prowl had gotten him back to his elbows and knees, his port and spike still buzzing from the last overload. The Tactician was petting his plating teasingly while he seemingly decided what to do.

Jazz grinned deviously and rolled onto his back, spreading his legs and looking like a begging turbo-fox.

"Would the alpha grant this berth mate a taste of what he's gonna give the beta?"

Bumblebee couldn't see it, but he was sure Prowl was smirking.

The spy was manoeuvred into place, Jazz taking his cuffed arms and placing them up over his own helm so that the yellow mech was forced to rest his chest plating on the saboteurs.

Prowl held his hip plating firmly and teased his cord into pressurising fully again.

He then lined them both up, and with one slow thrust, penetrated Bumblebee and pushed the beetles spike into Jazz.

Both mechs moaned, but the sound over the minibots comm. was one of slight disappointment.

**Damn, need three mechs for this job. Make them go slow Bee.**

Sideswipe had that tone that suggested he had a plan, so the beetle played along. It was for Sunstreaker after all, so if he wanted him to be tortured with drawn out pleasure then… so be it.

Bumblebee mewed and pretended to wince slightly.

"Sorry… I'll go slowly for a while" Prowl murmured in his audio.

Bumblebee nodded and thanked him, shivering from the blooming ebbs of another charge. Warm tingles of pleasure raced over his sensor net, spreading from his valve and spike and the contact points between the other two mechs.

It wasn't three kliks before a chorus of Lamborghini engines sounded over his internal comm. and Sunstreaker's deeply aroused vocals told him to resume activities.

Even after only the short amount of time spent holding back, Bumblebee could see Jazz was being pushed to incomprehensibility by his pleasure charge.

"I'm OK I think." Bumblebee panted, quivering as his valve clenched over Prowl's spike while it slid deeply into him, pressing against his socket and pinging with arcing charges from the tacticians overcharged spike.

Prowl growled deeply from his engine and picked up the pace, driving in smoothly and slickly. Holding off had certainly made the spy exceptionally well lubricated, and the same could be said for Jazz, who moaned and arched into him, engine revving hard as his port quivered.

**Hey** **…** **Sun** **…** **who did you?** **…**

**Bluestreak, who else?** Sunstreaker purred over the comm.

**He** **'** **s filling in for your position right now.**

**I suggested Wheeljack again, but apparently he** **'** **s busy, and Blue was closer anyway.** Sideswipe added, sounding just a little breathless.

**Wheeljack** _**again,** _ **what? Never mind, Blue doesn** **'** **t know we** **'** **re-**

Sunstreaker laughed softly over the line. **No, of course not. Much as I love him, I know damn well how bad he is at keeping his mouth shut. He won** **'** **t suspect anything, us randomly capturing him for a** **'** **face isn** **'** **t out of the ordinary.**

**Heh, y-yeah, I kno-OOOOOOH! NNNnnn** **…** **you don** **'** **t really hide it from mechs on the mmm-monitors.**

Both of the twins laughed at the interjections to his internal communications.

**Primus, I want to make Blue do that** **…** **what are they doing to you over there?**

Sideswipe said eagerly.

**MMMmmmm, the one on top is rolling his hi-hips around every time he thrusts into m-me and below** **…** **clenching on my spike** **…** **f-frag now he** **'** **s going for my hor-OOOOOOHHHHH!**

Bumblebee's line filled with static as Jazz began pinching and rubbing expertly at his horns.

"H-harder… pleeeease…"

The minibot let the begging carry through his internal comm. But it wasn't at all prompted. Prowl and Sunstreaker happened to moan at it at the same time, the sounds sending more quivers of excitement and arousal through the spy.

The tactician began to snap his hips forward swiftly, pulling out until his spike nearly left the clenching, tight little valve, pulling the yellow hips back with him so that Bumblebee's cord slid in and out of Jazz a fair way.

Jazz writhed and mewled at the varying angles of penetration as he moved his hips. The beetle atop him gasped and panted, engine roaring as the double onslaught of sensation brought him back up. He voiced his thoughts over his comm., and the twins fed hungrily off his aroused narrating, copying it and commenting on how good it felt.

When Prowl started to nip and lap at the back of his neck cables, Bumblebee bowed his back to try and press more into the thrusts. Jazz's engine rumbled deeply and he wrapped his arms around the spy's shoulders, squeezing the minibot's tyres and reaching up to kiss and nip along the edge of the yellow helm.

"NNnn, please, take me… claim me, I'm yours, please…"

Bumblebee couldn't take the teasing as he hovered on the edge of bliss, circuits and sensors on fire and whole frame quivering with the force of his incredible arousal.

He heard Sunstreaker grunt out his release, Sideswipe following suit with a keen and crying out Bluestreak's name.

For the briefest nanoklik he wondered if his voice had tipped them over, but then Prowl reacted to his request and he couldn't think. Denta sunk into his neck cables, hot ex-vents and that powerful engine pressing into him as the datsun drove his spike hard and fast a few more times and then connected.

Unconsciously, Bumblebee copied him and plugged into Jazz.

The flow of energy from Prowl to him to Jazz was so incredible and perfect, he screamed out the ecstasy of his overload so loud he thought the whole base would hear.

He was vaguely aware of the sound of four mechs moaning, two over his comm. and two beside him.

The rolling waves of pleasure continued as both black and white mechs bucked against him, until they all collapsed in a sated heap, circuits buzzing as if they'd drunken some of the twins high-grade.

 **Mmmmmm, we gotta do that again some time. I think I like synchronised audio interfacing.** Sunstreaker purred inside his head.

**Heh. Maybe you just invented a new sport. In which case, we won,** **'** **cause we overloaded first.**

Sideswipe quipped cheekily.

Bumblebee couldn't help the lazy little giggle he let out, and beneath him, Jazz's visor dimly lit up again and the saboteur canted his helm at him. "Wha's so funny?"

 **Mmmmm, I concede defeat. I know I** **'** **m no match for you guys in this department** **…** **Oh, should I tell them by the way?** Bumblebee panted over his line, fans buzzing softly as the metal of his armour pinged from cooling.

There was a hum of thought from Sunstreaker, and the beetle could nearly see the wicked smile no doubt spreading over his features.

**Why not. After all, they ought to know who is** _**allowing** _ **them to claim his pet.**

Bumblebee couldn't quite describe how glad it made him feel to still be Sunstreaker's 'pet'. At the very least, he knew now that the golden mech didn't outright hate him for what happened, and that lifted a weight from his tank that had been dragging him down for joors.

He sighed through his vents and smiled at Jazz coyly.  
"Tonight's interface was brought to you by Sunstreaker, and endorsed by Sideswipe."

The Porsche gave him a most peculiar look, and atop him, Prowl twitched, wings whooshing the air slightly as he flapped them with surprise.

"What are you talking about?" The tactician asked with clear confusion in his tone.

The spy decided not to torture his logic chip by making him guess and outright explained.

"Um… when we got started, someone pinged my comm. I would have ignored it, but it was Sunny. I didn't really know what else to do, I couldn't just fob him off, but then he kinda… figured out himself from how I sounded what I was doing… and then decided he wanted to get involved."

"Aaaah… that explains it then. Cause I never picked you for the role-play type honestly." Jazz said softly with a rumble from his engine.

"So… Primus, you weren't broadcasting-"

"No, of course not Prowl. I made sure not to give away who you were at all. I just told them what you were doing to me as it happened." the yellow mech explained quickly with a soothing purr from his engine.

He squeaked as he felt a nip to the back of his neck cables again and Prowl began to move, pulling out of him carefully. The movement against his hyper sensitive walls sent tingles all through his frame and he whimpered.

"You really have been a naughty mech… we're going to have to punish you again soon." The tactician rumbled beside his audio before nipping a horn lightly.

Bumblebee's engine gave a soft rev at the promise, but he remained slumped against Jazz, who was running his digits lightly along the minibot's backstrut.

Bumblebee moved to reciprocate the soft caresses, but with a soft clatter, he was reminded that his wrists were still cuffed and looped behind Jazz's helm.

The saboteur grinned at him in that ominous way of his that made the beetle's diodes buzz.

"Hey, who's to say ya shouldn't be punished directly after the crime? I got energon, and the off cycle is still young here…"

A growling rev from both the Datsun and Minibot only served to widen the grin splitting Jazz's faceplate.

"Should I be getting the straps?" Prowl asked smoothly, Bumblebee gasping at the very thought, feeling Jazz's valve spasm around him at the mention.

**Hey Sunny** **…** **I** **'** **ll talk to you later, OK** **…** **I think they just picked up the gauntlet you threw down.**


	13. Chapter 13

Jazz and Prowl continued to pick up that Gauntlet for the next three days, until the three of them were thoroughly exhausted. Bumblebee was grateful his first few duty shifts were aboard the Ark, but day four saw him on patrol with Bluestreak.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one suffering every time they hit rough ground or pot-holes.

Half the four cycle patrol was spent on the subject of how eager Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been with the gunner lately.

"So, I heard there's going to be some transfers from Cybertron soon! Who do you think they're going to bring down here?"

This was a very thankful change of topic, and Bumblebee latched on instantly. The less he heard about the Twin's stamina, the less his valve would ache at the very thought.

"Well, seeing as we'll probably have to combat more fliers and possibly another triple-changer, I'd say they'll want mechs able to cope with those… possibly some autobot fliers to back-up the aerial bots, or some more marksmechs like you. I mean, you can shoot out a Seeker at the end range of your own rifle! Imagine having a team of bots with you to do that, you'd have all the seekers down before they even reached the battle."

The silver Datsun's engine revved in excitement. "Wow, you think they'd do that? Expand the snipe team? That would be so cool… but what about triple-changers, my firepower isn't usually enough to deter Astrotrain or Blitzwing. And I know Cybertron can't spare a whole lot of mechs, they need an even-skilled team up there to hold off Shockwave too, don't they?"

Bumblebee did a brief, high powered pulse sweep to detect any possible eaves-droppers before continuing with the conversation in a low tone.

"Well, I'm pretty sure they'll end up bringing an Autobot triple changer down to even the odds a little. I know there aren't many of them, but a mech's name has been popping up a lot in the potentiality file pull, and he's got some pretty impressive credentials. I mean nothing is certain yet, but I think he's probably a cert." The beetle kept his voice low, but he could feel Bluestreak's thrill at being given the information. Really, it was nothing the 'Cons wouldn't have already suspected, knowing that he had infiltrated them and gathered a fair amount of information.

It was also unlikely the 'Cons would change their transfer preferences even knowing that their enemy was aware of their choices. In the end, they needed who they needed, and the only mystery either side would have would be their new mechs actual identities. The small spy had been very careful not to drop designations.

This conversation carried them for a while, moving into other nicely innocent subjects, until Bumblebee found himself content to just listen to Bluestreak prattle on about some human TV show he was interested in.

When they finally returned to the Ark, they headed to the rec room together, the gunner not having missed a single beat in his retelling of the last episode of Star Trek that he had watched, even as he transformed.

"And then Spock did that eye-brow raising thing he always does and said, 'that would be, illogical'. Oh cogs, I cracked up so hard… I mean, I already see too much of Prowl in Spock, but that was just too funny! Primus I swear I've heard Prowl say that at least 5 times in the last solar cycle. Has he ever even _watched_ Star Trek?"

Bumblebee couldn't suppress his snort and chuckle. "Oh yea… I've seen it. I didn't think I was the only one to notice. But come on, Prowl isn't THAT cold."

He had to bite his glossa to not expatiate on his experience in that field, but Bluestreak didn't even twitch a door in suspicion. "Oh yea I know, but still, gotta admit for an organic, Spock sure acts more like he's got a processor and not a brain. But, oh! PLEASE tell me I'm not the only one who thinks McCoy IS Ratchet! I mean come on!"

Bumblebee couldn't help but let out an explosive laugh. As a matter of fact, he HAD noticed that, he'd just forgotten.

The gunners door-wings waggled enthusiastically at realising Bumblebee was in on his joke and started ticking points for his argument off on his digits, grinning from audio to audio.

"He's cranky, he's cantankerous, he's suggestive, he asserts that chief medics right thing over the captain-"

"We talkin' about Ratchet huh?" A new voice joined them as Sideswipe strode up from behind them, having come from an adjoining corridor. He threw an arm around Bluestreak, who snickered, door-wings fluttering in a way Bumblebee recognised as a playful gesture.

"McCoy actually. I TOLD you guys you should watch Star Trek with me, it's hilarious! Even Bumblebee thinks so."

Sideswipe threw the minibot a winning smile, optics lingering on Bumblebees with a far more meaningful look than his demeanour would imply, before looking away.

"Yea, but Sunny doesn't like it, he says it's stupid human garbage entertainment. I gotta say, I agree… I don't watch human shows for the good plots or their theories on what their future would be like, I want explosions, car chases and special effects blockbusters. The only sci-fi they've done that me and Sun like is Star Wars. Mostly because he likes to make fun of C3PO. I watch it for the prank ideas. Oh, and the explosions."

"Yeeea but come on, Siders, Star Trek! The characters are really funny, and so is the acting. Apparently a lot of stuff made in the human's time-span called 'the sixties' is cheezy like that, but it still holds up OK now." Bluestreak pouted and bumped his shoulder against Sideswipe's chest plate, drawing a grin and an affectionate look from the toughliner that it seemed only the grey datsun could.

Bumblebee grinned as they rounded the corner into the rec room. "Might not be such a good idea to encourage them though, Blue. If they started seeing all the relations between those characters and Ark crew members, Prowl would end up getting pointed ears glued to his helm and Ratch would find his equipment reformatted to look like the ones in the show or something."

"You're doing WHAT to my equipment?" Came a gruff, slightly threatening voice from their left.

Without even turning, Sideswipe threw Ratchet an unfazed, cheeky grin and responded quick as lightning. "Nice choice of words there Ratch. Answer being, wouldn't you like to know?"

Bluestreak made a very undignified noise as he stifled his giggles and Bumblebee barely contained his own laughter.

"I'm not entirely sure that sticking pointy 'ears' to my helm would be up to your usual standard, Sideswipe." Prowl commented blandly, looking up from his data pad and arching an orbital ridge at the frontliner.

Bluestreak saw his expression and failed spectacularly at containing his amusement, to which Prowl merely raised both orbital ridges and gave Bumblebee a questioning look.

The beetle smiled widely. "Nevermind, Spo- oh, Prowl, sir. Just noticing some amusing parallels between some fictional earth characters and some of the Ark's crew."

Prowl gave a small sound of exasperation and ran a servo over his faceplate. "We're not on the Spock thing are we? I've already been over that likeness, thankyou. I don't feel we have all THAT much in common. For one, his logic is based on the observations made with an organic processor, which is hardly the same as a bot fitted with a battle computer and advanced logic circuitr-… what?"

Prowl had stopped his small tirade when he caught Bluestreak giving him a pleading look, servos clenched in front of his bumper.

" _Please_ just say it for me, Prowl! Just once, _pleeeease?_ "

Prowl threw Ratchet a helpless look, but the medic just gave him a wry grin. "Ah, give the kid what he wants, lieutenant Spock."

Prowl gave Ratchet a deadpan look that only seemed to please the medic more, before venting in defeat and turning back to an eager Bluestreak with emotionless faceplates.

"…That's, Illogical, Captain."

Bluestreak burst out laughing, door-wings wiggling with glee as he doubled over holding his abdominal plates in a rather human gesture.

Bumblebee flashed Prowl a grin and the datsun's expression softened slightly before he turned to Ratchet.

"McCoy, when was the last time Sideswipe had a general check-up?"

Sideswipe, who had been snickering beside Bluestreak, suddenly baulked.

Ratchet made a 'tch' sound, cocking his helm to the side with his evil looking grin still firmly in place, optics twinkling with mischief.

"Well, Spock my friend, it's not for another orn, but logically, there are benefits to scheduling it earlier… I'm free next cycle."

"Hey! I don't watch that stupid show, why are you taking this out on ME!"

Sideswipe pouted, but Prowl only joined Ratchet in his scary smiling.

"I'm just reminding you why you don't talk about pulling pranks in hearing range of superior officers. Especially when those pranks involve said officers." Prowl responded coolly.

The red mech threw out his arms incredulously. "That was BUMBLEBEE! I didn't even SAY anything about pranking anyone!"

"Yes, but knowing your history, it takes very little prompting for you, and given your comment upon walking in, I've no doubt you would certainly seriously consider the suggestions for later use. In fact, my battle computer predicts an eighty-two percent chance that you'd carry out the suggested pranks."

The tactician supplied pleasantly. His wings flickered in a triumphant gesture Bumblebee had seen him make when he thought he was winning a teasing argument with Jazz.

Sideswipe's optics narrowed and his own dangerous grin appeared, which immediately saw Prowl's wings shoot up and tense slightly.

"Oh, but you yourself said the prank I could play on you wasn't even up to my usual standard. Maybe I should think up a better one to make my unjust punishment worth it. I guess you won't punish Bee for saying it 'cause you love him and want to have his sparklings… but seeing as he's taken and you can't kiss him, maybeeeeee, I should help you relieve that tension…"

The red frontliner didn't even seem to notice Bumblebee's optics widening or Prowl's small sputter when he implied their relation. They shared the briefest glance, but Sideswipe seemed too intent on his idea, and stalked towards Prowl, who jumped into action.

"Sideswipe… don't you dare."

He was out of his chair and standing authoritatively in nano-kliks, but Sideswipe just crept around the table with his mischievous smile, arms outstretched to catch the SIC.

" _Sideswipe._ Do NOT make me pull rank on you." His voice became stern, and Ratchet actually chuckled, prompting the tactician to throw him a dirty look. "Thankyou for your support, _officer_ Ratchet."

It was all the lapse in focus Sideswipe needed and he lunged for Prowl… who jumped backwards out of range and put more distance between himself and the frontliner.

Bumblebee and Bluestreak stood dazed and amused… it was like watching some nature program on TV, waiting for the predator to catch or lose it's prey, and they didn't even think to move or get involved in the sacred age old battle. Instead, they stood and giggled as Prowl's door-wings arched up and he scowled, dropping into a defensive crouch as he and Sideswipe circled each other.

"I'm warning you Sideswipe, if you don't cut this out, I'll have you in the brig for attempted assault-"

"See! You're so uptight, that's why I need to loosen you up, now c'mon and pucker up, sir!"

Sideswipe retorted, the flash of his optics telling just how much fun he was having riling Prowl up.

It was as Prowl backed up near the table that Ratchet decided to break the stale-mate.

He stuck his pede out slightly just as Prowl strafed past and the SIC tripped with a clang and a gasp, twisting and executing a perfect forward roll to disperse the momentum of his fall.

It was enough of a distraction for the red twin though, who pounced, grabbing Prowl around the middle with one arm where he crouched, the other snagging the back of his helm and forcing him into a loud, over the top, lip-plate on lip-plate smooch.

And smooch really was the only word for it… Prowl flailed slightly before shoving a servo into the twin's neck and pressing on precise lines to cut off his energon flow.

Sideswipe relinquished, falling back on his aft and looking slightly startled as Prowl staggered to his feet and rubbed the other's oral lubricant from his pursed and grimaced lip-plates.

Sideswipe merely giggled on the floor. "I forgot how good you were at melee sir."

"Don't make me remind you in the training room before I send you to the brig."

"Aaaaw c'mon! You can't tell me you didn't like it." Sideswipe winked and Prowl bristled, prompting another chuckle from Ratchet.

"Or I could just inflict him upon you immediately, Ratchet, and request you give him a wheel re-alignment." Prowl stated dryly as he crossed his arms, still looking rather indignant.

"His wheels aren't misaligned though, so far as I can tell." Ratchet said pleasantly

"I could fix that if you want, might keep him out of my face for a while." Came a voice from the door as Sunstreaker walked in, flanked by Tracks and Blaster, all of them having just come off their comms. shift.

Sideswipe pouted, getting to his pedes again and rubbing his neck tubing faintly.

"Aw c'mon Sunny, you're supposed to back me up."

The golden twin didn't seem to register his brothers words though. Prowl and Ratchet had already stiffened, turning to look at Sunstreaker, who's optics were locked onto Bumblebee.

Bumblebee had turned to look at the newcomers and his gaze had also fallen to Sunstreaker, his expression one of shocked surprise.

Sideswipe seemed to realise the dilemma an astrosecond later, but Bluestreak, Tracks and Blaster all appeared oblivious, moving to the energon dispenser and starting their own conversation as the gunner started telling them just what Sideswipe had done to Prowl.

On the surface, it probably didn't seem like anything more than a weird staring contest on the outside. But Bumblebee was feeling the keen difference between just talking to Sunstreaker over comm. links, and actually being faceplate to faceplate with him.

The look in the frontliners optics suggested he was losing his internal battle to hold back very slowly.

Sideswipe gave a soft gasp and an odd strangled noise at the sensations over their bond and bounded forward, wrapping an arm around his brothers shoulders to try and wrench him away with an overdone smile, pretending he had to drag him away for some reason.

Sunstreaker wouldn't budge, and his faceplate seemed to set more in stone the harder he fought his urge to lash out at the minibot who his processor was trying to affiliate with his original abusers.

Bumblebee, for his part, stood there with a still somewhat shell-shocked expression, bracing himself for the storm. In truth… he'd meant what he'd said. If beating the scrap out of him would help Sunstreaker then, he'd take it.

But before any words or actions could break the tension, an alarm managed to distract them all.

Prowl snapped into officer mode, and Ratchet sprung to his pedes, downing what was left of his cube and bustling the twins out the door, breaking Sunstreaker's optic contact with Bumblebee.

The Beetle didn't follow the frontliners, Medic or SIC until Bluestreak clapped his shoulder and jogged by. "C'mon slow poke, gotta report to the control centre!"

* * *

It turned out that the Decepticons were attacking a power research facility about half an hour's drive away. Well… half an our away for a Cybertronian.

Bumblebee split off from Bluestreak as they arrived, heading to Jazz's position. He unsubspaced his rifle, ignoring the soreness in his valve as the running jarred his over-worked sensors, and he couldn't help sharing a smirk with Jazz when he crouched beside him and winced.

Prowl was not out there with them, which made them both feel marginally better. Still under precaution from the Decepticons targeting of him, he was helping direct tactical manoeuvres from the control room at the Ark.

Mirage sprinted over and had to slide into the refuge of their cover behind a small truck to dodge laser fire from passing Seekers. He grimaced at the dust that marred his plating, but made no complaint.

Bumblebee peeked around the cab of the vehicle to scrutinize the Coneheads, taking note of where Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were, halfway across the facility grounds firing and charging at the combaticons.

He knew it was the lead Trine who seemed to have it in for Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, but all the same, Starscream could easily order other air troops to assist in their vendetta.

"Raj, get in to the main Building n' find out for me what the 'Cons are doin'. Reports say Starscream is in there settin' up somethin', but the humans didn't know what it was."

Jazz instructed the noble, who, with a curt nod, fired up his electro disruptor and slipped away.

The TIC and spy took pot shots against Soundwave and his cassettes where they were trying to cause trouble for the frontline troops fighting.

It seemed like a standard battle scenario, until chaos erupted from the front of the facility the Decepticons were fighting for possessively.

Humans started spilling out of the exits, fire alarms going off, alerting the Decepticons.

It seemed they weren't interested in the disturbance, or the humans. A few Decepticons tried sadistically to catch a man or woman running past to taunt the Autobots with, but snipers targeted them for their trouble, and Jazz and Bumblebee jumped into the fray, ushering away and protecting as many of the workers as they could.

 **I thought they** **'** **d evacuated the Building when we got the call!** Bumblebee called over to Jazz through his comm.

**So did I** **…** **an** **'** **the** **'** **Cons don** **'** **t want em** **'** **as hostages, clearly, so either they thought staying inside was safer until the** **'** **Cons in there started kick** **'** **n them out, or the** **'** **Cons needed them up to a point.**

They were still pouring out and screaming when laser fire peppered the ground around the entrance and Mirage flickered into sight, staggering for cover and holding a shoulder dripping with energon.

Jazz grasped Mirage's good shoulder and dragged him back to the cover of the truck, firing at Vortex as he swooped by, throwing pot-shots at them.

Bumblebee ducked behind a car, shepherding what seemed to be the last of the humans off to the cover of Ironhide and Trailbreaker, who were ensuring a safe exit route for the escaping workers.

 **BEE!** **Mirage reports explosives, there** **'** **s an energy cell in there that Starscream** **'** **s tampered with, it** **'** **s building to a critical level. Failsafes are s** **'** **posed to shut it down once it reaches a certain point, But** **'** **Screamer** **'** **s planning to blow it just before that and get a huge energy payoff from the explosion. He** **'** **s got a cube type he** **'** **s leavin that** **'** **ll absorb the energy, but the blast** **'** **s gonna take out this whole plant with the kinda force that cell will give the explosion. Ah can** **'** **t get in to disarm it in time, Vortex n** **'** **Blastoff have us pinned.**

**I** **'** **m on it Jazz.**

Bumblebee wasted no time. He ran for the side of the building and crept along it, moving swiftly to avoid detection and slipping through the front doors without a single laser shot fired in his direction.

He folded down into vehicle mode and made his way swiftly through the corridors, Mirage providing him with directions through the battle net.

Bumblebee changed back up and crept to the huge doors that led to a warehouse like area of the facility. He could hear Starscream talking to someone… _humans_ _…_

Looking cautiously around the doorframe, he saw the seeker holding a man up to his face and snarling insults at him.

The man pleaded against Starscream's plans, but the air commander laughed it off, lowered his servo, and dropped the poor fellow several feet to the floor. He didn't land too badly, and managed to stagger to his fellows, being stopped from running away at rifle point by Skywarp.

Starscream turned to a large black box, which was attached to a huge cylindrical glass object that seemed to contain a plasma reaction of some kind. The large metal panels of the machine it was attached to were open, wiring all over the place where the air commander had tampered with it to create the feedback loop.

Chained to the floor beside the machine was a collection of energon cubes bound within a larger one, bigger and thicker sided than any Bumblebee had ever seen. It had to be the energy collection apparatus.

"We have what we need. In one klik, this energy cell will reach capacity, and my device will be set off, causing an explosion powerful enough to fill 500 energon cubes instantaneously! Your assistance has been appreciated, gentlemen. Feel free to use your last… oh, minute now, to flee for your puny little lives!"

Starscream ignited his thrusters, leaping into the air and changing into his jet mode before cackling his way into the sky through an already broken set of skylight panels.

Skywarp gave his own short, sharp laugh, and with a "so long, squishies! Or should I call you, splatties?" he too sped upward, laughing.

Bumblebee exploded into action the moment he was out of sight.

**Jazz, I** **'** **m in, I** **'** **m just about to reach the-**

When Bumblebee heard the startled cry of Skywarp, who he was sure had just followed Starscream out, he glanced up, wide-optic'd, to see the seeker hovering just outside of the skylight.

_Oh_ _…_ _sentry duty, prevent tampering, he can warp away just before the explosion_ _…_ _slag._

Then Skywarp's arm moved, arm cannon pointing at the explosive.

The human workers, five men, were racing towards him and the door beyond him.

Skywarp fired.

Bumblebee's processor surged with a jolt of activity, scanners and predictive programming working overtime.

…Bank of machinery on his left that could shield him from the worst of the blast.

…Humans in danger.

…Probability of fatal damage if caught this close to the blast.

Bumblebee wondered somewhere in the half a nano-klik he had to dive for the men, rolling to shield them as the shot connected and the chemical chain reaction blossomed out from the epicentre of the blast, why it was that every human looked like Spike or Carly to him in these kinds of situations.

In the next few astroseconds, his sensory input threw the thought out of his meta.

He thought he heard someone screaming his name inside his helm, and had he been able to process clearly, he would have realised it was Jazz though his open comm. link.

Outside of his helm, he heard nothing. His audios had been blown by the shockwave, his body rocked to his very spark casing, although his spark felt fine, right now…

He did wish half his sensory array hadn't just been overloaded by heat and blown out completely. That and the skipping in his train of thought.

That skipping.

That was annoying.

Yea that was annoying.

Annoying.

Sign of shock.

Yea, shock.

Shock, hmm…

He Didn't like it…

It was annoying.

White noise filled his sensors, and as the roiling heat and strain against the shockwave started to pass and smoke clogged up his intakes, he coughed, and then stopped coughing, because it felt very wrong.

Bumblebee's arm gave a violent spasm and rocked him backwards. He fell onto his back-plates and gasped.

Oh… that hurt…

It actually… hurt so much he wasn't sure how he'd missed that…

And why was his intake suddenly so wet?

He coughed again, and again chocked on the action from how much pain it caused.

His optics flickered, then came online, but everything was wrong, it was all sort of greyed out.

Oh yea, shock.

Shock was annoying.

Pain was more annoying.

Really annoying.

No, wait…no…

Something else…

What…

Pain was bad…

Not annoying, worse…

Bumblebee chocked again on the wet feeling filling his intake, and the soot was making ventilation hard, and so was that all encompassing pain.

He narrowed it down to originating from his right side. And… yea… his WHOLE right side.

He paid attention to his optical input, realising there was only sky above him now. There was fire somewhere too, he smelt it.

He could still hear nothing, his comm. was damaged now too… his helm hurt, he must have hit it on something and jarred his communications array.

What sensors other than pain reception, smell and sight DID he still have?

Taste! His taste receptors were picking something up… concentrating, he recognised it as energon.

Energon? Where was that coming fro-

Oh.

It was about then that Bumblebee realised, actually realised, that he was injured.

* * *

"RATCHET! NEED YOU HERE, NOW!"

Jazz called out franticly as he raced towards the sight of the explosion.

_Primus no_ _…_ _oh, please, Primus, no_ _…_

The Decepticons were fleeing, Megatron and Starscream having an almighty row as they took off, the rest of the troops following.

"Jazz, what's up?"

Sideswipe called out as the Saboteur raced past, but he didn't have time to answer.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker noticed Ratchet running in the same direction, and gave each other a foreboding look before following.

Jazz leapt over the rubble of a collapsed wall and swung around the still standing corner of the room from which the explosion had come.

He snarled as he caught sight of familiar black and purple wings. Skywarp had his backplates to him, crouched and stretching his arms around a huge mass of cubes, half of which had filled with raw energon.

Jazz fired, but the seeker had already engaged his warp drive, and the shot sailed through thin air.

Jazz's visor caught movement.

_No_ _…_ _oh no_ _…_ _.nononono_

"BUMBLEBEE!"

He screamed out the mech's name so harshly his vocaliser broke into static.

There was no response… of course there was no response, explosions blew out audio receptors, he couldn't even hear him.

Jazz fell to his knees near Bumblebee's helm, realising the movement he had seen was actually humans.

There were five… only three were moving. They were badly burnt, all of them. The worst was not going to be identifiable by his face, but he had no pulse that Jazz could detect in an automatic scan.

He wanted to be able to care about the humans… but when he let his visor fall on Bumblebee's damage… that's all his world could fit in it and his focus narrowed down in a way that normally made him uncomfortable.

_No, please, not Bee, not him_ _…_

His arm had been blown away, completely. He realised the remains of it, torn off by the shockwave and mangled by the heat blast, was lying several feet away near what used to be the room's entrance.

There was a gaping wound in the minibot's right side. His backplate had been torn half off. His side plating was peeled back like an oil barrel lid that Ravage had tried to open. All the glass of his alt. mode had shattered out and a large chunk of his chest plate was ripped back.

Internal systems were exposed, one third of what usually resided in the small mech's chassis had been blown away, and in the hole left was so much heat damage it was hard to tell components apart.

Energon was pooling from those torn lines not heat sealed onto themselves by the plume of fire that had followed the shockwave that had caused most of the damage. Much of the yellow plating was blackened, indistinguishable from the metal it had peeled and burnt from because the blast had turned it all black.

The side of his hip-plates had also been torn open, exposing his hip joint, and burnt lines.

Cracked and split circuits and wires sparked faintly, and Jazz shook his helm.

Bumblebee's optics flickered and looked up at him.

Jazz gasped as if his spark were being constricted.

He didn't even notice Ratchet dropping to Bumblebee's side and diving into his internals. Energon was running from the corner of Bumblebee's mouth-plates… was running from everywhere, and Jazz was WILLING those optics not to offline.

"Jazz! Hold this fragging line slaggit, I need you useful, not useless, snap out of it!"

As ever, Ratchet's tone brought reality crashing down on any mech in his immediate vicinity, and Jazz did not hesitate to follow his every instruction.

"Hhhh-hum…anss"

The small crackle from Bumblebee's vocaliser had Jazz fix his visor on the small silver faceplate again. His servos remained steady as Ratchet re-attached the main power line that fed energy to Spark chamber systems.

_Primus his spark casing was nearly blown right open_ _…_

Jazz looked up at the humans, startled to find Hound and the Twins had also arrived, and were soberly and gently lifting the humans to take out to their own medicals teams, ambulances having responded the moment the attack alert was sounded.

Knowing Bumblebee couldn't hear him if he gave a verbal answer, Jazz just nodded to him. The beetle's optics dimmed a little.

"C'mon, don't do that, stay with us, stay online Bee."

Ratchet grumbled as he started feverishly sealing and re-routing energon lines.

"Jazz, contact base, get First Aid to prep the med-bay with spark support systems and get Skyfire to do an emergency run out here, now."

The TIC opened his comm. link and obeyed the Medics orders to the letter and with detached precision. Only practice at these situations was making him useful.

His visor never left Bumblebee's optics again until Skyfire touched down outside the building and he helped Ratchet transport the minibot into his hold.

Primus, there had been so much lost energon under his body…

The trip was no more than ten minutes with Skyfire throttling his engines at full boar. But to Jazz it was an eternal 10 minutes. Ratchet had placed Bumblebee in an emergency stasis, but the Porsche couldn't tear his gaze from the slack features.

All he could think of was how he'd used to feel like this when he'd first become intimately involved with Prowl.

The first massive battle injury the tactician had sustained had stalled his processors. Normally, nothing could faze him. Nothing disrupted his response techniques, nothing made his processor blank out, nothing made him so unable to focus on anything but his injured lover…

He'd adjusted, he and Prowl both. They had learnt each other's true strengths, and no longer stalled or went to pieces when the other was injured badly. They trusted each other to pull through alright.

He had thought it was something you got used to and got over and learnt not to feel.

Apparently, he was wrong.

But then, Prowl had never suffered anything quite like this…

He was chief tactician and second in command, his job didn't call for sneaking into the heart of enemy territory or running towards armed bombs to disable them.

Why was it so few changes made such a huge difference?

Had he still been in a professional relationship and had an ordinary camaraderie with Bumblebee, he would not have stalled the way he had. Oh, he would have been worried, desperately so, but he'd still have all his wits about him.

So why did the knowledge of Bumblebee's past and the memories of him, in the throes of pleasure or simply nuzzled into his side recharging as he played soft music, suddenly change everything?

_He_ _'_ _s done the same thing Prowl did. He_ _'_ _s found a place in yer spark and filled it. Ya ain_ _'_ _t ever gonna fill that space with anythin_ _'_ _but him now._

Jazz shuddered. The thought of losing either Prowl or Bumblebee… the space it would leave inside him… the thoughts were abhorrent.

What he had to acknowledge, even though he hated to do so, was that he had been seized by raw _fear._

The fear of losing these mechs that had found their way into his spark.

He couldn't think any more on that, because Skyfire's touchdown prompted him to help Ratchet prep the gurney Bumblebee had been placed on to be rushed to the med-bay.

First Aid was waiting outside the Ark when they arrived.

So was Prowl.

The SIC's expression remained controlled, forcibly calm yet concerned. When First Aid took over for Jazz and he and Ratchet raced down the hallways (cleared by Prowl), the Datsun's only reaction to seeing Bumblebee's state was the brightening of his optics to a nearly stark white.

Jazz walked tiredly forward, his pedes suddenly feeling like lead as his action protocols started winding down and that raw fear coming from his spark tried to engulf him. Prowl embraced him briefly, the shock still clear in his optics, and Jazz reciprocated. Their grip on one another was too tight, nearly enough to dent, and Jazz ex-vented harshly as Prowl made a shaky intake.

"What happened? What went wrong?" Prowl asked, barely above a whisper. Jazz shook his helm and motioned to move into the ark, Prowl releasing him but walking close enough to brush plating reassuringly.

"We'll hafta ask him when… he's fixed up. Went in to disarm the bomb Starscream planted. Made contact when he reached ground zero and he was halfway through a sentence… just stopped, gasped, I thought ah heard a shot fired. I called out but the shockwave busted his comms. Busted… busted him up bad. Frag there was so much energon…"

Prowl reached out and squeezed Jazz's shoulder as they moved towards the command centre. They both wanted nothing more than to sit outside the Med-bay and wait for Ratchet to tell them how he was and what to expect, but they were second and third in charge. They had duties to attend to first, and sitting outside the Med-bay wasn't going to give either of them answers any faster than if they continued doing their jobs.

* * *

Sunstreaker hadn't said a word since they'd come upon the scene in the blown out facility.

He drove in blank silence beside Sideswipe all the way back to the Ark.

He could feel the terse anxiety twisting around his brother's spark over Bumblebee.

It made him cringe inside a little more, a feeling he carefully concealed from his brother as it was followed by hidden shame and another wave of self-loathing.

They were both smeared with human fluids… blood and whatever else they seemed to leak when they were burnt that badly, but neither of them cared enough to head straight for the wash racks when they got back like most of the others covered in scorch marks, dirt or energon.

Sideswipe led the way, prodding an unresponsive Sunstreaker through the bond, concerned frown deepening as he got nothing but 'not now' all the way to their quarters.

As soon as they were through the door though, Sunstreaker closed it behind them and thunked his helm hard into it's surface, optics off lining and fist smacking it with restrained strength.

"What is it Sun, spit it out… why are you shutting up like that?"

Of course he hadn't expected Sideswipe to leave it alone. They had learnt a long time ago that bottling feelings from one another didn't do either any good. Two halves of a split spark needed to be open to sharing everything without restraint, or rifts grew and they both fell apart. That didn't make it any easier, but with a hard ventilation, Sunstreaker reminded himself that they'd been through that conversation a million times, and he needed to dismiss his personal shame at baring his spark entirely to his brother. Maybe he'd never get used to having no secrets from Sideswipe, but he reminded himself that it also worked the other way, and not just because Sideswipe was an open mech by nature. There was effort both ways.

With his silence he felt Sideswipe's anxiety rise, so he turned before his brother could open his mouth to query further.

"I don't feel it, Sideswipe."

The red twin rebooted his optics once to show his confusion.

Sideswipe ex-vented in relief when Sunstreaker took down his barriers across the bond, but then his frown returned.

"Feel what?"

The golden mech scowled, more to himself than at his brother, and pointedly concentrated on projecting the state of his emotions to his brother.

"There's nothing THERE Sideswipe. There's something there, in you, you're afraid he's going to offline… you're worried about him, just like any mech would be."

Sideswipe's helm tilted to the side as his optics dimmed and he started to feel out what Sunstreaker was getting to.

His golden counterpart scowled, faceplates twisting as he turned away, the shame returning, the disgust.

" _Nothing_ Sideswipe. I don't feel _anything_ for it. Primus knows I want to, I should, but that's not even the WORST of it. I felt… fragging slag almighty when I saw him lying there bleeding out…"

Sunstreaker's faceplate contorted and he tensed, striking like a coiled snake and slamming a fist into the bulkhead beside the door.

"It's not your fault Sun." Sideswipe uttered quietly, plainly, non-judgemental and calm.

Sunstreaker's ventilations were fast and hard and he shook his helm, pressing his fist against the wall and his helm against the balled up servo as he growled low in his engine.

"Sideswipe… it felt _good_ _…_ something in me thought it was _RIGHT_ to see him blown up and bleeding energon…"

"That wasn't him and you know it. That was memory super-imposition. Ratchet said that would always happen. It's never stopped you helping anyone. You didn't attack him, you didn't try to finish the job, and it's not your fault it happened-"

"I KNOW that Sides, I KNOW!"

Sunstreaker whirled around and stared intensely at his twin, frame quivering with the roiling emotions bleeding freely now from his spark, and Sideswipe felt as if they pressed down on his shoulders. He would always shoulder his brothers emotions though, without protest. They were, to a degree, his own after all.

The golden mech's optics blazed near white and there was a desperate and painful look on his faceplate.

"I don't care that the glitch acts up like that, but it can't be right that I can't even feel worried about him pulling through! What kind of a mech am I, Sides? Because of other bots sick actions and a mistake an orn or so ago on Bumblebee's part, and I can't fragging CARE that he might OFFLINE? Primus Sides I WANT to care… I really want to, and I'm so fragged in the spark I can't even force myself to. I want to worry about what will happen if he doesn't pull through, I want to WANT to know that he's going to be alright, but when I look for that stuff in me my processor and spark decide they don't want to know… that he's not important, after what happened, and that…"

Sunstreaker chocked on his words, optics blazing white and self-loathing etched across his features.

"He didn't deserve it Sides. He's not done anything wrong, why do I feel like he did? Why am I so sick that I think he only got what was coming to him? When I know that's not right, and I'm disgusting for thinking it, why am I even thinking it, when I don't want to? I can't really feel that way… it has to be the glitch but it doesn't feel like it and I… I just don't know anymore what's me and what's the glitch… maybe it is just me Sides…"

The golden warrior sagged, the tension leaving him, replaced by an undercutting weakness that sapped all his emotions again, leaving only a void of confusion, disgust and hurt. He slid down to the floor and pressed the heels of his palms against his temples, shaking his helm slowly.

"And look at me… it's not even about me, I'm not the one damaged… not the one having their spark being pulled back from the brink by Ratchet, and all I can think about it how messed up _I_ am… selfish… and I still can't make myself care…"

"No, Sunstreaker, you're not going there… no downward spirals. Of course it's the glitch… hey, _look_ at me bro…"

Sideswipe had knelt down in front of his twin and grasped his wrists, pulling his servos away from his bowed helm.

Sunstreaker kept his optics downcast until Sideswipe's persistence at trying to catch his gaze made him look up from under the rim of his helm.

"At the very least, you have the benefit of an outside opinion. I can FEEL in there, remember?" He knocked a knuckle against Sunstreaker's chest plate for emphasis, and felt the slight curl of shame from Sunstreaker again, the self loathing, and he struck out over the bond and curled around that, catching it.

"No, Sunny… it's not you. I can feel you, THIS is you, you care so much about wanting to care that it tears you up that the glitch wont let you. I can feel the difference in there. Glitch stuff is so rock-hard it hurts… 'cause its not supposed to be there, it was put there by other bots, when you couldn't stop them. It's not you. It's that raw sparkling stuff you can't get rid of. It's misguided, undeveloped feelings latched onto the idea of revenge for pain. Mature sparks and processors know the complexity of forgiveness in a way sparklings don't. It's not you feeling that or thinking that, its that old scarred programming trying to tell you about stuff that you don't agree with, because you know better. You can't help it being there any more than Bumblebee could fight that drug."

Sideswipe's voice was so full of conviction, Sunstreaker let himself fall into it, let himself trust his brother and believe him. He couldn't not, with all the emotions he felt through the bond, the purity of Sideswipe's conviction, the vehemence and intensity of his belief in him.

Sunstreaker rebooted his optics slowly and thunked his helm against Sideswipes, who leant into him.

"You memorised Ratchet's explanations of it didn't you?" He grumbled softly at his red counterpart, who grinned good naturedly.

"'Course I did. You know I'm not that eloquent. I know what he's saying though. Know it's true, 'cause I can feel it."

Sunstreaker slowed and deepened his vents again, shifting slightly and looking intensely back into his brother's optics, swallowing dryly.

"I _want_ to feel it though, Sides… I want… please"

Sideswipe merely nodded, optics understanding as he got up and pulled his brother to his pedes, dragging them over to Sunstreakers berth.

He laid down and let Sunstreaker climb over him, opening his chest plates readily as the golden mech positioned himself over his red counterpart, splitting his own open.

It didn't take them long to press their sparks together, gasping as they melded, spark pulses synchronising and thought processes meshing until they didn't know their separate identities anymore… until they were that one whole spark they had jokingly nicknamed super-spark since they were only younglings and had first discovered their need to re-strengthen their bond like this periodically.

Once they had settled together, the Sideswipe part of them opened up all his emotions once more, and the Sunstreaker part felt like it was his own emotions, finally unlocked to him again, unimpeded by a cold, hard glitch.

He clung to his brother… to himself, to the comfort of feeling right again, neither aware that they were both sobbing softly with bitter sweet relief as their core re-righted the wrongs and re-aligned them into harmony once more. Sunstreaker's half of the spark fed off the emotions so freely produced by Sideswipe, and likewise his brother fed off Sunstreaker's immoveable strength to ease his fears.

As their anxiety bled away and their shared spark blossomed with the merge, pleasure began to flood them both, and it wasn't long before they reached overload together, rolling before they offlined and their spark re-split to return to their separate chambers.

They remained curled around one another on the berth, drinking in the comfort and shunting away their worries for as long as possible, online once more but silent and reassuring as they waited for a reason to have to move and return to the real world again and all the issues that came with it.

* * *

"Jazz? Finally! Please, ya gotta tell us what's going on, what happened to Bumblebee? We saw him rushed into the Med-bay, but no bot else knows what happened to him! They just told us you came in with him and Ratchet on Skyfire. What happened to you guys, is he gonna be OK?"

Jazz's visor was too bright, worries overlayed with very mild surprise as he turned to gaze down at the anxious humans.

He shared a brief look with Prowl, who's door-wings had arched into a higher, tenser 'V' shape.

They both looked back at their human allies, Jazz crouching down on one knee, not hiding his anxiety. He had known Spike and Carly too long now to insult them with false reassurance, and… to be honest with himself, he didn't have that sort of charity in him right now, still running on the ' _Primus I can_ _'_ _t believe this happened_ _'_ train of processing that was messing with his ability to concentrate on his duties.

"Well, the most I can tell ya is, we were on a call out, tryin' to stop the 'Cons from blowin' up a facility to harvest the energy of the explosion… Bee went in to disarm their bomb… for some reason, we think it was shot, it went off too soon and… Bumblebee was at ground Zero when it happened. We ain't got anything' more'n that. Gotta wait for Ratch to…work his magic."

Jazz found himself forcing words out of his vocaliser, straining to keep them calm, but simply making them quieter

Carly clutched Spike's arm unconsciously with a soft "Oh God, ground zero…"

Prowl gave them a sympathetic look, door-wings vibrating with more worry than the humans could probably read.

Spike, no longer the slightly reserved teen around them he had once been, looked Jazz full in the optics with just as much of their concern radiating from his expression.

"How bad was it Jazz? Ironhide said you were on the scene before Ratchet."

Jazz hung his helm a little, running his dentas over his bottom lip-plating once before fixing his over-bright gaze to Spike's own intense one once more.

"Right arm was obliterated. Most of the right side of his chassis was torn open, lotsa components slagged… s…spark casing exposed, but in tact, and so far as ah could see, undamaged. Lost a lotta energon, but Ratch arrived real quick. From what I know of damage like that, the bigges' problem Ratch will be facin' is system shock overwhelmin' his spark, but Bee's strong. From what ah could see, he only got in the way o' the blast an' didn't dive fer cover 'cause he was protectin' a couple o' the workers. Lot'v 'em got real badly burned, but they'da died without 'im. Firs' thing he asked when he saw me was if they were OK. Ya know he's a tough bot, n' if he ain't worryin' about himself in that kinda state, I don't think he'd be givin' up life that easy."

Not for the first time, Prowl marvelled at Jazz's ability to say just the right sorts of things to soften even the most devastating of news.

Spike, jaw clenched and shaking slightly, looked ready to break down until the saboteur revealed what Bumblebee had been most concerned about after having been blown up.

He let out a noise somewhere between an explosive sigh, a laugh and a sob, dropping his head and laying a hand over one of Carly's where it gripped his arm.

"Should've guessed… I swear, that bug and his human saving obsession…"

The tension had effectively been broken, despite the palpable anxiety still hanging over every one of them, but that could not be dissipated by anything short of Ratchet actually declaring that Bumblebee would be alright.

"Prowl, is it alright for us to stay on base tonight? We don't want to miss anything if there's word of how Bumblebee is doing." Carly asked with a voice of forced normality that the tactician gave her a gentle smile for.

"Of course. We'll be sure to let you know, the moment we know, in any case, but there's no reason you can't stay here for an indefinable amount of time. You are always welcome here."

The two human allies thanked them both (Carly even breaking away from Spike to Hug Jazz's shin, the TIC returning it with a one servo hug of his own and a slight, sad smile), before they both left for their human sized quarters which had been established on the Ark for what had to be a few years, though no one had really noted, because they had always been happy to welcome and accommodate the two.

"Bumblebee will be glad of their presence when he is able to see them." Prowl said softly as he turned back to the monitor bank to assess the clean-up and re-build reports coming in from their last battle.

Jazz nodded as he stood beside the SIC and brushed against his plating comfortingly.

"Yea. He will. You've seen the hospital report, though, haven't ya?" Jazz replied in a quiet murmur.

Prowl frowned slightly, optics dimming.

"Yes. It is tragic to know two families will be left grieving, despite his efforts and the risk he took."

"You know even though it's only two humans he doesn't even know, it's gonna eat 'im up inside for a while. This ain't th' first time. Ah seen it, and I think Mirage and Cliffjumper have… but no mech else has that I know of. Human loss hits him so much harder than any o' the rest of us. Spike's like a spark siblin' to 'im. He knows humans ain't all connected, an that they don' even stick their necks out fer each other if they're strangers… but he's said it before, he can't help seein' Spike or Carly in the face o' every human in danger he comes across. He knows he shouldn't let it affect him so, but his spark's too big for 'im Prowler. _When_ Ratch has his body on the mend, it's gonna be up t'us to get him through the fallout."

Prowls optics shone a little overbright, matching Jazz's visor, as he absorbed the new personal information. He certainly hadn't had any idea that human loss effected Bumblebee so keenly… but in hindsight, it didn't surprise him all that much when he thought about it. The beetle was one of the most compassionate of all the mechs on the Ark, he was certainly up there with Optimus Prime himself in that area. He hadn't ever stopped to consider the implications of that, though.

* * *

When feeling and coherency started to return to his processor, it took Bumblebee a while to muster the energy to actually attempt consciousness. His very being felt heavy, and slow, and something at the core of him resisted the idea of returning to the real world. As his memory cache began rebooting, he started to realise just why his spark instinct was resisting his return to being online.

Yea… this was gonna hurt.

Screwing up his conviction, he pushed through his final reboot sequences, bringing sensors and motion relays back online, noting they were restricted by a sedation program. Last of all, he powered up his optics.

A now over-familiar orange ceiling was the first thing to meet his gaze, and he cycled his lazily working vents in a soft sigh.

"Can't we get Sunny to paint something nice there?… I'm getting more familiar with the ceiling of this place than I would like, Ratch."

His vocaliser hummed and buzzed oddly with his quiet words, something out of alignment effecting his speech.

A red and white figure loomed over him with a tired, wry smile, servos working away out of Bumblebee's line of vision… he was well aware though that they were positioned such that he should have felt them on his plating. But he couldn't.

He could feel an overall ache, like every component in his chassis had been jumbled around like a puzzle with all the wrong pieces forced to fit. He was sure some pieces had to be missing as well, but he wondered if he dared to ask what.

He wondered if he really cared, given he was obviously still online, and that was the crucial thing.

"How d'you feel Bee?"

The medics exhaustion didn't make him feel a whole lot better though. A tired Ratchet was one who'd spent way too much of his time fixing to get enough rest to be grouchy.

Bumblebee swallowed, hoping he could stimulate some lubricant into his vocal processors to re-align the cogs.

"Like a bomb went off next to me, funnily enough."

"Heh. Fancy that. Can't imagine why you'd choose that as an example." The medic rumbled back with a soft chuckle before his optics dimmed and his tone became more sober.

"Good to see you back online kid. Think you've outdone your more recent visit. Just don't start getting into contests with the twins, your compact systems are much more fiddly to repair than theirs are."

"So what is the damage?" Bumblebee daren't raise his own helm to look after a statement like that.

He was thankful for the sedation codes they had initiated, and the lowest possible setting of his pain receptors. But his systems were so sluggish he couldn't even be bothered running an internal systems check to find out for himself.

Ratchet frowned slightly, concentrating on his work as he answered.

"Well, you managed to get your right arm blow off, and rebuilding another from scratch is going to be fun since I don't have a full and ready replacement for it. But that's secondary to the internal systems damage I have to fix first, seeing as a good quarter of your chassis contents got strewn across that facility's floor. Right hip joint needs replacing too-"

"OK, OK, I get it, I blew myself to slag… unless you want me purging all over you Ratch, please don't give me anymore detail."

Bumblebee asked faintly, shuttering his optics for a moment as he fought the queasy feeling that had been rising during the medic's assessment.

Ratchet gave a soft chuckle. "No purging now thankyou, you'll ruin my delicate work here. Just lie back and think of Cybertron."

Bumblebee onlined his optics to give the red and white a slightly incredulous look.

"Was that meant to be a joke?"

"Only if you found it funny. But no laughing, you'll ruin my delicate work."

Bumblebee let out a soft digital sounding snort and shook his helm slightly, off lining his optics once more.

"Does it actually work?"

"What?" murmured the medic, grunting as he fiddled with something or other that had jammed somewhere it shouldn't be in the minibot's side.

"Thinking of Cybertron?" Bumblebee clarified with a cheeky lilt.

Ratchet hrumphed and managed to dislodge the stubborn metal component, the spy wincing more from knowing what the dulled sensations pertained to rather than any real pain.

"'The slag would I know? I'm not the one always getting myself landed on med berths, that's the rest of you goons. In your case, it might be better just to lie back and think black and white thoughts."

Bumblebee didn't have to online his optics to hear the smirk in Ratchet's tone.

"If my remaining arm didn't feel like lead I'd slap you for that one."

"Bet it works though doesn't it?"

"…Shut-up."

Ratchet chuckled, hands as steady as ever as he continued his work.

Sober silence settled again before the medic spoke up. "I'll have you back in stasis soon Bumblebee. I let you come online because I have to defrag your processor, and you need to be conscious for the uplink. You suffered severe shock when the blast didn't knock you offline, so I need to make sure and stop any glitches that may have caused from embedding. Just gimmie a sec to finish un-jamming your insides from themselves."

"…How long have I been offline?"

Ratchet gave a non-committal noise. "About 5 joors, give or take a few cycles. It's the off-shift, so I haven't really checked my chronometer recently."

"And… how long do you think it'll be before I'm fully operational again?" the beetle asked tentatively.

Ratchet gave a one shouldered shrug.

"About two orns, give or take a few joors."

Bumblebee cursed softly, making Ratchet smile.

"You really are spending too much time here, I'm rubbing off on you."

Bumblebee gave a soft snort.

"One has to wonder if Primus is doing this because he likes to mess with me or because he likes to mess with you."

Ratchet laughed outright at that, finishing up his work in the minibot's side and moving away, wiping oil, energon and coolant off his servos.

"Oh, I'd say a little from column A and a little for column B, and then a little more from column 'It'll be more interesting for the poor medic if the injuries get progressively worse each time'".

Ratchet pulled over a bank of equipment the spy recognised from the time he'd had his system cleared of the virus shot he'd taken for Prowl, and gave the CMO an apologetic look, which Ratchet spotted and waved a servo at.

"Ah don't gimmie that look, I ain't blaming you for your recent bout of slaggings. What's that human expression… 'when it rains, it pours'. Looks like you're just getting hit by a hurricane kid, happens to us all at one time or another."

As he spoke, the medic started popping access ports in the base of Bumblebee's neck and helm, attaching cables and starting up his machines, typing things into it.

"Speaking of Humans… any word on those five?…"

Ratchet sighed at Bumblebee's tentative enquiry. He'd been expecting that question. And praying it didn't come.

"Three survived, still in intensive care, one died on the scene, one died in the emergency ward. None of them would have had a chance if you hadn't been feeling suicidal."

The medic was well aware of Bumblebee's soft spot for humans. He was also well aware of his tendency to blame himself if he failed at an attempt to save any of them. He intended to head off any of the beetle's self-blame tendencies before he fell into depression.

"Primus… if I had just stopped to _think_ that Skywarp-"

"And if you had just stopped to think it would have gotten closer to detonation time. You still saved three Bumblebee, that's three more than if you'd hidden and kept yourself safe, and while I appreciate the value of human life, I appreciate the value of one of our best espionage operatives who's been alive longer than their whole slaggin' race even more. Do NOT let it get to you, and that's an order. There's nothing wrong with being emotionally effected in your line of work, but you can't let it rule you. Some things you have to let go Bee, you know that."

The minibot shut his mouth and swallowed, looking away from Ratchet as he continued to input all his program data into the machine.

"Ok, that's all set. You're gonna go back into recharge now for a few joors while that defrags everything. From what I've seen with you online, there doesn't seem to be any presenting glitches, so this'll catch any that aren't readily apparent. I should have your chassis well and truly on the way to patched up by the time you're awake again. Have a good nap kid."

"Thanks Ratch. Make sure Jazz and Prowl don't worry about me too much, OK?" The spy said quietly, trying to give him a half smile at least.

Ratchet's own expression was gentle, but his optics were piercing.

"Only if you promise not to tie yourself in knots inside over those humans. You did good, no feeling guilty, alright?"

Bumblebee gave him a slow nod, and Ratchet pressed a button, sending the slagged minibot offline.

He gave a small shake of his helm and applied some static bandages to cover the spy's open wounds before leaving for some much needed recharge.

* * *

"Hey, Bee, ya got some visitors!"

Bumblebee looked up from his data pad and beamed as Jazz strode down the medbay with Spike and Carly on his shoulders. Behind him came Chip Chase, his wheelchair suspended between Prowl's servos. The wheelchair bound genius always had liked being suspended rather than just have his chair perched on a palm. Air beneath his feet was something he rarely got, but he relished it.

Jazz was grinning from audio to audio, and Prowl had his usual demure smile on, optics and door-wings saying much more about his joy at seeing Bumblebee online than anything else.

The saboteur's visor flashed as he took in the minibot's condition. He was propped up on one of the berths near the back of the ward, close to Ratchet's office. Static bandages covered the worst of his damage… but given he had no right arm and a large chunk of his right side remained unrepaired, it was still a little shocking to see.

Nevertheless, the spy was smiling, his optics surging happily at the sight of them.

Jazz went to his left, Prowl his right, both setting their human passengers down on the berth surface as Bumblebee slipped his data pad into subspace.

"God, Bug, what a mess you've gotten into this time, huh? Had us all worried sick there for a few days." Spike said as he appraised his old friend with his hands on his hips.

Bumblebee looked genuinely sheepish as he shifted slightly on the berth to allow them room.

"Yea… sorry about that. I guess I thought it might all just _blow over,_ you know?"

The twinkle in his optic and barely suppressed grin had Jazz snorting and Carly grimacing.

The female smacked him on the leg with a slight pout. "Oh that's not funny! Ratchet said you went into spark shock three times, three! Perceptor told me years ago what that means, you nearly died Bumblebee, how can you make jokes?"

"Hey, now, Carly… Bee's OK. That's WHY he's joking about it, because he CAN." Spike tried to sooth her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as she ducked her head, wiping the back of a hand over her eyes.

"Spike is right, Carly. We're rather used to serious injury given the war… we cope using humour, and dismissiveness, but it's not because we don't take the matter seriously." Prowl added placatingly.

Bumblebee ducked his helm apologetically at his upset human friend.

"Yea… sorry Carly, I didn't mean to upset you, I was just trying to get you not to worry about me. I'm fine, really. I've suffered spark-shock before, I didn't know it had made you worry so much."

The blonde woman raised her head, still wiping distractedly at her eyes as she fought the tears of relief and anxiety that had been unshed up to that point.

"No, I'm sorry Bee… I know you didn't mean to upset me, I guess it's a human thing… I didn't know I'd fall apart seeing you, I just… We were so worried, I'm relieved you're OK."

"Hey, c'mere…" Bumblebee motioned his human friend over and she shuffled forward sheepishly.

Bumblebee wrapped his remaining arm around her and hugged her gently to the undamaged side of his chassis.

"I am a lot tougher than I look y'know. Don't you worry over me, I've lasted this many millions of earth years haven't I? A little bomb isn't gonna get me after all that time. Especially not since we've got Ratch."

She nodded at the soothing words and finished wiping at her eyes, extending her arms to hug the yellow chest plate.

In retrospect, Bumblebee thought he probably should have realised his human friends reaction to his injuries would be pretty serious. It was the worst injury they'd seen the effects of in the years they had known him, but he hadn't really thought about that. It was also fairly normal for them to assume the worst since a human suffering the same as him would be much less likely to survive.

Spike and Carly had been around them long enough to know that replacing a limb was no big problem, and even fixing severe processor damage was more than possible given there were stored backups they updated every half an earth year or so. And that was only as a double back-up should their laser cores be damaged at the same time as their processors, and their internal databanks were compromised.

He had to admit though, that having a chunk of his side missing was probably quite a disturbing sight, for both Cybertronians and Humans.

Bumblebee received many more visitors over his med-bay stay, including a very relieved Optimus and Bluestreak, a cheery Wheeljack, a very supportive Cliffjumper, a slightly scolding Hoist, Mirage and Hound who brought him energon goodies as, what they called, a 'deepest condolences' present because he had to spend so much time in Ratchet's company, and of course Jazz, Prowl Spike and Carly on a regular basis.

He certainly felt much more appreciated than he thought he ought to be, given he had actually failed in his attempt to disarm the bomb. But, as Jazz pointed out, and he couldn't refute, any mech that had gone in to do that job would have met the same fate.

The one thing Bumblebee couldn't get off his chest plate though, was how down-sparked he felt that neither of the twins had come to see him.

He found himself missing them… the same way he had been since the 'fragging incident'. Only now, he couldn't even observe Sideswipes and Sunstreakers antics from a distance. He missed talking to Sideswipe, even though he understood completely why not even he had come to represent them both.

Sideswipe's loyalty to his brother was completely justified, and Bumblebee didn't feel he had the right to feel offended or hurt if he ignored him for the sake of staying true to his brother.

But that didn't stop him wishing he could see and talk to either of them, or even hear them.

He hadn't forgotten, of course, the incident just before they had left the Ark for the last Decepticon attack.

As much as he and Sunstreaker had made progress from a distance, they had faced the harsh reality of the severity of the toughliners associative glitch, and it seemed to him to throw things into harsh perspective.

It suddenly seemed like it would take more than he knew on his own to fix what had happened.

"Penny for your thoughts Bumblebee?"

The minibot was snapped out of his thoughts by Spike, who stood beside his berth, arms crossed and a cheeky smirk on his face.

Bumblebee straightened from where he'd been hunched over, elbow on knee and helm in hand as he processed. He shook his head to clear his mood and reached his one servo down to help his friend onto the berth.

"Ah nothing. Just thinking about stuff, it's all I've got to do in here really."

Spike smirked playfully.

"Well don't think too hard, you might overheat your processor, and Ratchet won't be too happy about that huh."

Bumblebee gave him a mock glare and flicked his hair with a finger.

"Oh ha ha. Says the human who can't run 6 separate programs at full capacity all at once."

Spike batted at his servo with a grin and sat down next to a black thigh.

"So seriously Bee, what's on your processor? You don't usually miss me walking in."

Bumblebee sighed through his vents, playing absently with the edge of his bandages.

He and Spike were about as close as two friends of different alien species could get. Even now that the human was not a child, and had more responsibilities in his own society, Bumblebee felt protective of him and missed him. But he and Spike shared more now than they used to, given the human had matured and understood a lot more of the social complexities of Cybertronians, to the point where little about his alien friends surprised him anymore. Though he and Bumblebee didn't have as much time together anymore, they had a much stronger relationship and emotional equality.

It struck the minibot suddenly that perhaps his human friend's perspective was the new angle he needed.

Apart from that, he realised Spike deserved to be caught up on all the happenings of his personal life. They were, after all, close enough friends that they told each other almost everything.

"Spike, I know Blaster explained Cybertronian relationships to you and Carly ages ago. You remember how he told you about how it was about as crazy for us as it is for your kind?"

Spike gave him a curious half smile and nodded.

"Don't tell me you've gone and fallen for someone bug?"

Bumblebee smiled widely.

"Oh, well, that's a whole other thing. I'm already _with_ some other mechs."

Bumblebee's smile only widened when Spike's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Seriously? Why didn't you tell me before? And who… wait, mechs? Plural? How many bots you got going there casanovabot?"

The spy laughed and shook his helm.

"Just two. And if you think hard enough about who's been visiting me and how often, I'm sure you'd figure out who they are. It's kinda funny, because most of the Ark doesn't know. And we've been keeping it that way. It only happened while you were away on Holiday."

The brown haired male tilted his head, looking at his large yellow friend curiously. The beetle could almost see the cogs working, so to speak, in the humans head.

"No way… noooo way… it's not Jazz and Prowl. NO way."

The minibot beamed.

"Yes way. Very much way."

Spike cracked up laughing, leaning sideways and onto black thigh plating.

"Seriously? No, I mean, come on… Jazz I could see, but Prowl?"

"Heh, you know they were together before I was with them, right? Prowl having a relationship isn't THAT weird you know."

Bumblebee watched the stunned look pass over the human's face before he cracked up laughing himself.

"You DIDN'T KNOW?"

"Shut up, I just knew you guys have free love stuff going on, I never really asked about who was with who OK. I kinda figured those two were just good friends… and Jazz liked to tease Prowl a lot and… damnit why did I NOT see that before…"

Bumblebee, to his credit, tried very hard to stop giggling, but it took Ratchet sticking his helm out of his office and growling at him to actually effectively reign in his amusement.

"You know… it doesn't help realising that that means Prowl is mushy with you in private too."

Spike ribbed him with a wry smile.

"Oh hush, it's not like he turns into some soft furry thing when no one's looking. He's very thoughtful. And if you must know, he's the one that got me into the relationship, but that's something else completely… they aren't who I'm having problems with."

Spike didn't miss the turn in Bumblebee's tone, and still leaning on his larger companion's leg, he looked at him more critically.

"Someone making advances and you don't know how to tell them to back off?"

"No no, not really… I kinda wish it was that simple. Look, you heard about… the 'fragging incident' yeah?"

Bumblebee thought hard about how to tell Spike the important stuff without actually giving away identities.

"Yea Jazz was telling me about it a few days ago. You got loaded with an overdose of cyber-narcotic that was like… some kind of aphrodisiac for seekers yeah? I gotta tell you Bee, the thought of Starscream and his goons actually… needing that kinda disturbed me."

Bumblebee waved his servo with a digital sound like a snort.

"Yea, that's not as bad as what that drug made me do. It spread around because I was too out of it to stop what the drug did to me. It… well, I don't have to explain interfacing to you, but the coding overpowered my logic drives so it made sense to me under its influence to spread it to as many of the mechs I was close to as I could. Unfortunately, one of the bots has… issues. Issues I kinda brought up when I immobilised them and spread the drug to them. I… ugh, the only way I can think to describe it in human terms is… this mech suffered abuse… rape… as a youngling. By Minibots. I inadvertently ruined my friendship with them. I don't know what to do to make it better… I mean, he doesn't want to hate me, but his programming is screwed up now and he can't be around me."

Spike seemed to digest it all a lot better than Bumblebee had expected. He sometimes forgot just how adaptable humans could be in situations that weren't exactly everyday, even in terms of human interactions.

"Well… even for humans, that would be a pretty messed up situation… although it helps a bit that you guys technically don't have genders beyond the way you process stuff. Honestly though, from what I know of serious personal issues, you're going to have to meet it head on I think. I know lots of people say you need to give wounds time to heal, but if it's something that nasty from his past, leaving it isn't going to change much. You need to help him trust you again. It might help if I knew who you were talking about, but I know that's not my business. All the same… If he doesn't want to hurt you when his programming is telling him he really should, then he can override it better can't he?"

Bumblebee shrugged.

"I'd have to ask Ratchet about that… maybe Smokescreen or Hoist too, they've both got psych qualifications. Still… thanks Spike. I needed someone who could push me into some kinda direction, I feel pretty lost on this one."

Spike grinned sincerely.

"You're welcome Bug. But on a… slightly less serious topic. I'm still, uh, having trouble imagining you as a lover."

Bumblebee couldn't help the giggle that burst out of him, and he quickly stifled it before Ratchet could grouch at them again.

"Well, I don't know that I'm a 'Cassanovabot' as you called it, but… I certainly seem to be popular in berth as of late."

"Oooh Beee! I so didn't need to hear that!"

"What? You brought it up!"

"Yea, but I didn't need to know about your prowess!"

Bumblebee grinned cheekily at his human companion with a look much more suited to the Twins.

"At least I'm not talking to you about what I'm going to do with my right servo once I get it back. You know all the gaps in Jazz and Prowl's armour seams? Turns out being a minibot means I can get right in and-"

"BEE!"

Ratchet, for the first time Bumblebee could remember, managed to sneak up on him during the ensuing laughing fit and whack him over the helm with a wrench.

* * *

"Hey Wheeljack, what's up?"

Bumblebee walked into the lab confidently, spotting his friend sitting at his central bench sorting wires he needed for his most recent project.

The helm panels flashed a cheery green when blue optics landed on the minibot, appraising the state of him.

"Well well, surprised to see you in here so soon Bee, thought you woulda been trying to avoid more explosions."

"Oh, hardy-har Wheeljack. I might only have one arm right now but it's perfectly capable of slapping you if you're not careful." the spy gave him a wry grin as he walked up and leant against the bench.

Wheeljack chuckled and turned bodily to face him, putting down his work.

The Beetle was having a new arm constructed, and Perceptor was doing the circuitry and wiring for it before Wheeljack could do the outer armour.

The reconstruction of Bumblebee's chassis damage and the hip joint replacement were already finished, fresh welds lining the minibot's side. A cap plate had been tack welded over the missing arm's joint while he was awaiting its completion.

"Repairs settling OK buddy?"

"Yea, they're fine. Still feel a bit off balance, but I'm off-duty until the new servo is ready, so I'm more bored than anything else."

Bumblebee waved his remaining arm to gesture as he spoke, looking around the lab at the amount of refuse on the tables. He could generally tell when Wheeljack was bored with his work just by how many unfinished projects lined the room.

It was just his luck that he counted about seven with a grin.

His arm waving had caught the inventors attention on the data pad he'd brought with him.

"So whatcha got there? Prowl lend you a data file to read to stave off cabin fever?"

Bumblebee's optics alighted happily on the Lancia again. It was all to easy to lead Wheeljack into the right topic when you knew what physical cues to give and take.

"Oh this? Actually, it's a little something I've been working on. I was hoping you were up for a bit of a challenge, but you look kinda busy with all these other projects…"

Bumblebee barely managed to suppress his grin as the tell tale gleam came into the engineers optics, telling him he was hungry for a new challenge.

"Oh, no-no, they're all just test pieces, nothing important, kinda getting bored with them. What's your idea for?"

Bumblebee let the grin spread over his face, placing the data pad in front of the other mech and turning it on, opening the file.

Bumblebee was no master craftsmech, but his basic technical drawings were usually quite clear, he'd learnt how to make them so for espionage report purposes.

This, however, had nothing to do with outlining base schematics. On the page were pictures of earth made objects, and his own notes and drawings pertaining to how they might be modified for cybertronian use.

Wheeljacks optics lit up and his helm panels flashed a curious gold.

"You want to make Cybertronian versions of these? Just upsized versions? Or improved? You know I bet this one could include-"

"Nah, 'Jack, I just wanted bigger versions that do the same thing. See the problem with this one here, is that being bigger would change what it does, so it would have to be made so it acted the same way as the original smaller version, and I have no idea how to do that kinda thing."

They spent the better part of a cycle just discussing the project, Wheeljack seemingly getting more and more enthused about it until he all but waved Bumblebee off so he could start work.

The spy chuckled as he walked out. Sometimes, being one of Wheeljack's oldest friends had some pretty awesome perks. It certainly made creative gift giving much easier.

So long as the gift didn't end up creatively combusting.

* * *

It was rather boring being off duty, and eventually Bumblebee reached a point where he was begging Prowl to find him something useful to do that Ratchet couldn't contest.

It was with a very understated smile that the tactician suggested he could help him with his reports.

The spy was delighted.

He wasn't one much for paperwork, but next to the concept of bed rest, TV or reading, his processor sang at the thought of getting intelligent use. Not that he didn't like reading, but after all the data pads and even human books he'd torn through in the Med-bay, he had fairly exhausted his liking for it.

Jazz pouted when the three of them were alone about Prowl getting to hog Bumblebee, but the beetle found creative ways to make it up to him. Which at one stage involved giving the Porsche the same treatment he'd given Prowl one joor in the report log room.

However, Bumblebee found his time was not merely his to share between Prowl, Jazz and his friends be they Cybertronian or Human.

Over the course of two weeks, he found himself the victim of miniature bot-nappings.

And always by the same mech.

Sideswipe, though he acted the fool much of the time, was far from intelligent.

In fact when he put his processor to it, Bumblebee would have been happy to recommend him as espionage team material.

Not that he bothered making the suggestion, he knew Sideswipe was and always would be a frontliner. His espionage skills were honed for the sole purpose of mischief making… in the broadest sense of the term.

"Nngh! Sides! F-fraggit Prowl is in his office! He's going to go looking for me, he didn't expect me to be long!"

Bumblebee's low whisper turned into a choked off moan as the red mech buried his spike into him again, nearly tapping his socket.

Sideswipe smiled devilishly as he pistoned his hips lazily into the minibot, running his servos up and down the leg caught in his grasp. He had Bumblebee on his side on a bare shelf, white thighs straddling one small black one, the spy's other leg stretched up impressively against the red chest-plate. One of the Toughliners favourite things to do with his captured beetle was to test his flexibility. That wasn't something Bumblebee could really complain about. His timing, however, left a lot to be desired. As did the places he chose to drag him into.

Currently, he had been snatched into a supply closet right next to Prowl's office.

"Hey hey bug, this is for a good cause, remember? Sunny is quite enjoying this you know, and I'm sure you don't want to mess with a method of healing that's working, do you?"

The red twins light purring tone was one that wouldn't carry, because even though they both knew Prowl's office was soundproof, they both also knew the storage cubicle was not, and any mech could be walking by outside.

Bee gave a soft mewl as he shifted his hips, squirming to try and get a bit more comfortable, only for the movement to give Sideswipe's spike a new part of his port walls to stimulate.

"No I know, it's g-got nothing _nnnnn_ _…_ to do with that… ah, I ju-ust wish you timed it better!"

Sideswipe snickered, making his thrusts a little harder, but no faster.

"Sorry Bee, the schedule follows Sunny's moods. No point doing this if he isn't aroused, it's either go with his urges or take twice as long to make progress."

Without skipping a beat, as he talked, Sideswipe released the beetle's cord and began stimulating it as well.

Bumblebee's one servo scratched at the shelf surface as he gasped and keened softly, Sideswipe's thrusts speeding up as he concentrated once more and let the sensations take over him.

With the firm strokes on his now pressurised cord and the red twin's large spike hitting his socket on every powerful, swift thrust, it didn't take long for Bumblebee to topple over the edge, dragging a gasping, arching Sideswipe with him. At the tail end of their overload, Sideswipe, who had continued to thrust under his brothers guidance over the bond, suddenly magnetised his spike and plugged into the spy.

Bumblebee barely managed to shut off his vocaliser in time to quiet the scream of pleasure he wanted to release as sudden surges of spark energy sent him crashing into a second and more intense overload, the melee warrior trembling as he followed once more.

When their charges finally dissipated, a heavily panting Sideswipe disconnected and pulled out of the minibot. Bumblebee shakily sank to the floor with the Twin, the two leaning against each other. Their fans buzzed loudly in the enclosed space, bodies and plating hot against one another.

"So how is he doing?" Bumblebee huffed out quietly as he let his systems re-calibrate before he even attempted to clean himself up.

Sideswipe lolled his helm against the top of Bumblebee's as his engine cooled and gradually quieted, his own armour pinging louder than the Beetle's .

"Better. Less memory purges in recharge, less trouble keeping his temper in check. He's mellowing out again… well, as much as he ever mellows out, but it's relative." Sideswipe explained with a vague flop of his servo in the air.

"How's your new arm coming along? Sick of the awful puns yet?" the red mech asked, and though Bumblebee couldn't see it, he knew a huge grin was splitting the other's faceplate.

"Slower than they thought. They have to wait for some supplies coming from Cybertron with the new additional troops. After that though, Wheeljack says it'll be done within a joor or two. And people thought I was just an 'Armless little thing' before now, leaving off the H doesn't make much difference. Even the humans are over the whole 'lend me a servo- oh wait you don't have a spare huh?' joke".

Bumblebee said softly, his tone good natured despite a sigh of exasperation and satisfaction.

Sideswipe chuckled softly, reaching into his subspace to get a cloth, the spy following suit.

They cleaned themselves up and got to their pedes, checking each other over for paint scrapes, but there was only some black on Sideswipe's hood that could pass for an ordinary scuff until he saw to it later.

"Hey… Sides…"

The red twin turned to Bumblebee as he took a last few swipes at his interface panel before closing it.  
Bumblebee was a little apprehensive about the question that had nagged him for the past orn or so he'd been out of the Med-Bay. But he wanted to press on. He had to know.

"You never… visited me in the med-bay. I don't want to sound whiney or anything, I mean if you wanted to stick by Sunny I can understand. I just… wanted to be sure that was why. I still want to help Sunstreaker, but I'm not… I don't want to be… well, _used._ "

Sideswipe's optics locked on his, and the seriousness of the frontliner's expression made him feel guilty about even bringing it up.

"No, no 'course not Bee. I… did, actually visit you. Just not when you were awake. I did want to stay with Sun, 'cause he still didn't feel it would be safe…" Sideswipe sighed, and it was a much heavier ventilation than Bee usually heard from the red twin. He was a little taken aback by the revelation, his optics questioning.

Sideswipe sat and crossed his legs, optics focussed on the floor before they came back up to the beetle's, a depth of emotion behind them that the spy hadn't actually expected.

"Sunny was… he's had more issues with his glitch around what's happened to you, and it's stuff that disturbs him. He thinks there's something wrong with him because he couldn't make himself feel bad when you got blown up. It's really NOT his fault. The glitch is deep, Ratch could never fix it. He feels… guilty for not being worried about you, and I didn't want to give the glitch any opportunity to make him feel I didn't stand by him and think I cared more about you.

Its… really, REALLY messed up, this whole thing, but seriously Bee. We're not using you. We DO like you. Sunny wants to like you again, it tears him up when the glitch superimposes all the scrap from his past on you. I did visit though… to see how you were going. Y'know…"

A small smile tugged at his unnervingly serious expression, the normal Sideswipe breaking through.

"You nearly beat us both on the record for most amount of body mass lost from a single hit."

Bumblebee, who had sat facing the warrior as he explained himself, couldn't help but snort, relief palpable in his systems.

"Always a contest with you two huh?"

Sideswipe smirked. "Damn straight. I'm still up this week on your lover bots in the 'facing arena aren't I?"

Bumblebee chuckled and shook his helm, getting back on his feet, the red mech mirroring him.

"Only just. Mind you, I'm counting the time I'm the one initiating, so I guess I could be cheating."

* * *

Bumblebee jerked out of recharge with a cry.

Again.

He stared at the ceiling, optics stark white as he fought back a keen.

His processors were fragmented from the quick reboot, and it took him a moment to calm and register the blue lights that appeared above him as a pair of optics.

The voice helped though.

"Hey, snap outta it Bee. C'mon, back to the land of the processing…"

Cliffjumpers voice was accompanied by servos gripping his shoulders and shaking him just a little.

His ventilations slowed and his processor seemed to kick back into its normal rhythm.

He groaned, servo lifting to rub at his faceplate as Cliffjumper let go of him.

Even in the dark, Bumblebee could tell the look in the other's faceplate. It wasn't often Cliffjumper showed his compassionate side, but in their shared quarters he had always been hard pressed to hide it.

"Humans again huh?"

His tone was soft, unaccusatory.

Bumblebee vented and groaned quietly.

"Can't stop seeing it. Their skin… Primus, CJ, when it burns like that… I can still smell it."

His voice was hoarse, a grating whisper.

He didn't look at the other minibot, but he could almost feel the red mech stiffen.

"Yeah… I've smelt that before. Kinda sticks in your vents somehow. Can't let it get to you though Bee. They're used to it. They've had that many wars in their history, we'll have to get over it like they have."

The other's tone was gentle. Bumblebee always felt rather warmly towards Cliffjumper for moments like this. The other had bunked alongside him long enough to know what tortured his spark. Just as Bumblebee knew the same about him.

They didn't often speak aloud of their feelings to one another… they just… compensated… helped. Offered understanding and as much reassurance as they could.

Even so, Bumblebee found himself wishing he could just bury his faceplate in a white and black side and let one of his lovers servos stroke over his plating to calm him.

He cursed his need to keep the relationship quiet.

But he was a spy, he couldn't afford to advertise his interests even to his companions on the Ark in general, or it left him too open to the possibility of the Decepticons finding out. And there was no doubt they would exploit the information… if not against him, then against either Jazz or Prowl.

"You good Bee? Need a lil' something' to help you 'charge again?"

Bumblebee rested his one servo down beside him again and looked tiredly over at his companion, who still stood by his berth.

"Nah… I'll be alright. Might go for a walk to clear my processor. Not like I have a shift in the morning."

Cliffjumper nodded, giving him a brief pat on the shoulder before returning to his berth.

"Not your fault Bee. Just remember that yea? You saved three. That's three more than if you'd just saved your own plating. They'll recover, their skin is repairable."

Bumblebee nodded as he pushed himself up, swinging his pedes over the edge of the berth and slipping across the room to leave. Cliffjumper never minded being woken from stasis. He was an easy recharger, and Bumblebee could hear his systems winding down again even before he'd closed the door.

He had to keep using his quarters, even though he'd prefer to stay with Prowl and Jazz, but at least the red minibot wasn't bad company.

He just hoped he could keep the small red gunner from getting nosey about where he was sometimes. At least the bad memory purges were a good excuse to sneak off and find comfort in his lovers presence.

But as he walked the dimly lit halls of the ark, his spark fell.

He had almost forgotten… Jazz, whom he'd intended to seek out, was on a night patrol, and it wouldn't end for another two and a half cycles. And there was no way in pit he was going to go wake Prowl when the poor tactician had been so snowed under with work the past three days that Bumblebee was loath to deprive him of any recharge, not when he needed it so badly.

Sighing through his vents, he decided to head to the rec. room instead. Late night TV could sometimes provide a rather nice processor numbing distraction.

The room was empty when he got there, so he plodded over to the couch, frame still feeling heavy from lack of sufficient recharge.

He fished the remote out from it's usual place between the oversized and lumpy cushions (which he had had a servo in crudely but lovingly constructing with Wheeljack and Hound, under Carly's supervision many years ago), and settled himself in to watch the large screen. No one ever bothered putting the remote anywhere else, as it always managed to get lost in the cushions anyway, and it had been decided long ago, by Prowl of all mechs in fact, that the most logical place then to store it was among the couch covers.

The beetle flickered through channels, optics dim, bypassing anything featuring humans themselves, before landing on a program about space.

He snickered slightly. Space documentaries made by humans were more like comedy shows to Cybertronians.

So much speculation… the Spy had to give humans a servo for it though, at least they were ambitious enough to try and find out about stuff billions of light-years out of their reach, and sometimes they came remarkably close but… more often than not their theories were naïve and downright laughable.

He found himself less amused tonight, wether it was because he was tired, or because he just wasn't in the mood to mentally correct the narrator on the subject of black holes. He found himself eventually only half listening to the program, gaze focussed vaguely on the cap over his right arm joint, left servo fingering the edge of it absently.

The cause of his distraction had presented itself to his meta.

He frowned slightly, warring within himself, not sure if he should mentally probe the subject or continue putting more effort into distracting himself.

"Bit late for you isn't it Bee? Or is it Early?"

Bumblebee jerked, startled out of his brooding and whipping his helm back to look up at the mech that had crept up behind the couch.

Bluestreak gave him a cheeky lopsided grin, door wings fluttering as he looked down at the minibot, totally self satisfied that he had managed to sneak up on him.

"Primus Bee, gotta be pretty distracted for ME of all mechs to be able to catch you out like that. I mean you don't even have anything in your valve this time-"

"Watchit Blue, or I'll use you as training practice for my next espionage practice session."

Bumblebee grumbled at his friend, unable to suppress a small smile and a slight orange tinge to his faceplates as the datsun giggled and circled the couch to sit by him.

"Ok ok, sorry Beeper, just couldn't resist. Like I said, you're not the only one they've done that to. And actually I wanted to… wait why are you awake? You don't have any shifts, right?"

Bluestreak's demeanour, which had actually been somewhat purposeful, changed once he seemed to realise something wasn't right about the situation.

Bumblebee, for his part, tried to seem carefree, but he guessed the fact he'd totally missed the gunner's entrance, coupled with his dim optics and less than easy expression were probably enough to tip his friend off.

"Hm? No, no just wasn't recharging great. Systems are still glitching over not having an arm, y'know, equilibrium circuits keep trying to go back to normal patterns and get all alarmed when they can't."

The minibot tried to brush it off casually.

He was, by trade, a very good liar, as much as he hated to use the skill on friends or comrades. But as disturbed as he subconsciously was, his body betrayed him from before he had put on his mask for the sharpshooter, and Bluestreaks keen optics had missed none of it.

"What, that a fancy way of saying you fell out of your berth? Uh-uh, fess up. What's bothering you? I've seen that little frowny thing when you think no one's looking for days now."

Bluestreak was to the point, but he wasn't harsh.

Even when he was forcing a subject, he somehow managed to do it in a way that made you feel like you owed him the truth. He was just too kind a spark to refuse most of the time.

Bumblebee ex-vented softly, allowing his gaze to drop to one of the gunners servos, unfocussed, his brow plates knitting together slightly. He worried the inside of his bottom lip-plating with his denta before answering.

Bluestreak might not see where he was coming from, but he always listened as much as he talked. And he knew the Praxian wouldn't let it go until he fessed up anyway, so he shook his helm slightly and decided to voice his troubles.

"I just…I didn't… I couldn't even go to their funerals. I couldn't… do ANYTHING. I was worried if I even had flowers sent… you know that custom they do… that they would take offence, that they'd hate me for thinking I had any right… I mean it's too late now, it doesn't even matter but…"

Bluestreak canted his helm and gave the beetle a slightly confused look.

"Whoa, wait, what? What are you talking about Bee? Giving flowers? Funerals, custo- _Oh_ _…_ "

The grey mech's optics widened and then dimmed as it clicked in his helm and his door wings drooped.

"Oh… you mean… the Humans, huh? The ones who didn't make it after… But, why would they be offended? I thought they liked the flower things?"

Bumblebee cycled air deeply, still gazing unseeingly at Bluestreak's servos.

"I thought they might… be angry, if I tried to send flowers. Y'know, because _I_ ran into that building and Skywarp shot the explosive because he saw _me_ … I thought they probably blamed me for their deaths. And then… Primus, I don't know if maybe I offend them by NOT sending anything, or acknowledging to them that I'm sorry but… I just don't know what would have been for the best. I would have gone to the funerals, but they happened just after I came back online, I couldn't leave medbay. And now it seems kinda late to do anything, but I really don't even know WHAT to do."

Bumblebee's optics flitted up to Bluestreaks, and he gave the datsun a helpless look.

Bluestreak seemed both surprised and sympathetic.

"Ooooh… I guess you're right… slag, I wouldn't know what to do in that situation."

The datsun grimaced as he thought about it some more, door wings twitching in a manner similar to how Prowl's would whenever a new variable came into one of his tactical equations.

"I don't think it's too late. I mean, the longer they have to grieve, the less emotionally charged they'll be. I mean, heck, I know humans can be pretty unpredictable and irrational sometimes, but surely they wouldn't get angry at YOU. You tried to save them, you got the slag blow out of you doing it too. That should count for something."

Bumblebee's frown pulled down a little more and his gaze flickered away again.

"I don't think they'd have all that much sympathy somehow. I'm a Techtronic life form, I'm repairable, all I have to show for it is a missing arm, and I'll be getting that back! Humans can't do that… I mean, they lost their lives, I only lost an arm. I wouldn't blame them for being mad if I tried to express to them that I'm sorry for their loss. I don't want to seem… I dunno…"

"Yeah, I get you. They might be mad that their people died and all you had was a limb blown off you could replace. But doesn't the fact you nearly offlined count for anything?"

Bluestreak's voice was soft, but Bumblebee's optics snapped back to his with alarm.

"You kno-"

"Everybot does. They aren't supposed to, but you know how stuff leaks around here. One overheard sentence and the whole Ark knows within the cycle. Carly didn't mean to say it I don't think, but even Gears seemed concerned I mean, come on Bee, triple spark shock is no walk in the crystal gardens. The point is, you risked your spark for those humans, and that's gotta count for something. I think… you should go with whatever makes you feel you've done right by them. If their families get angry 'cause they don't think you deserve the right to pay your respects, well… harsh as it sounds, that's their problem, 'cause we all know different."

Bluestreak's decisive words had the effect of lifting a proverbial weight off the beetles shoulders. He looked around at the gunner, holding his sincere gaze, and felt the corner of his mouth twitch up into a tiny smile of gratitude.

"Thanks Blue… I really needed someone to push me on that one. I never get anywhere by myself stewing on emotional stuff."

The grey datsun flashed him his own warming smile and gave him a pat on the armless shoulder, door wings fluttering in a soft gesture.

"You're welcome. But, uuuh… on the subject of um, emotional stuff…"

It was Bumblebee's turn to tilt his helm and offer the open audio as Bluestreak broke their gaze and seemed once again to focus and find his purpose.

"I meant to talk to you about um… the Twins."

Bumblebee gave him an open look, prompting him silently to continue. He was both curious and a little apprehensive.

Bluestreak looked around to make sure they were alone before continuing, still not looking Bumblebee in the optics.

"Well, I mean… you know I'm involved with them, and I don't mind them fra- uh, I-interfacing with other mechs or anything but… I know they're, well, that they've been doing some crazy things with you and that Sunny was getting a bit obsessed. He does that and it usually lasts like a week, if that. I'm not angry, or anything but… I just… I want to know if there's _something_ going on between you and them. They aren't ignoring me or anything but they aren't talking to me about YOU, and it just makes me… makes me…"

The datsun took a deep ventilation and offlined his optics before rushing out his next words before he could hesitate on them any further.

"I-want-to-know-if-there's-something-serious-developing-between-you-and-them-that-they-and-you-aren't-telling-me-because-you-don't-want-to-hurt-my-feelings-or-something."

Bumblebee stared at his friend, a little open mouthed and confused, before his processor caught up with what his audio feed had just given it and his optics flashed.

"Oh. OH. No! No no, oh, it's nothing like that Blue."

As he responded to the datsun out loud, he flung his internal comm. link wide open and pinged Sideswipe's frequency, the frontliner connecting back so slowly he had to have been startled out of recharge.

… **Bee? Wussup?**

**Sideswipe, does Bluestreak know about Sunstreaker** **'** **s history?**

Sideswipe's silence indicated to the beetle that he was surprised by the question, and while the red frontliners meta tried to kick in to make sense of the question in context, Bumblebee found himself facing Bluestreak's questioning gaze before him.

"Blue, I can tell you now, there is nothing relationshipy going on with me and the Twins. I was as surprised by their… attentions, as you are."

… **Yea, Bee, he knows. Why, what** **'** **s the deal? What** **'** **s going on?**

' **Sides you probably should have talked to him about the problem with me and Sunstreaker earlier, he thinks we** **'** **ve been getting in a relationship together behind his backplates to spare his feelings.**

The burst of static and swearing over the line told Bumblebee that this was complete news to the red twin.

Bluestreak gave him an anxious look, unsure but unwilling not to trust the spy.

"Are you… sure? It's not like… one sided from them or anything? I mean it's not just Sunny, Sides mentions you a lot too. I don't want to sound like I don't trust you, it's just… Prowl always warned me the twins weren't known for their long term relationships and-"

"Ok, stop right there Blue, let me explain." Bumblebee cut the gunner off before he could launch into one of his anxiety driven rambles that spiralled into minor panic attacks.

Bluestreak gave him a drooped door wing, pleading optic'd look, and the minibot internally fobbed off Sideswipe's questions with an 'I'll explain later' before shutting his comm and concentrating on his friend.

"Blue, I know you know about Sunny's past. What exactly do you know?"

The datsun seemed rather taken aback by the question, as if Bumblebee had smacked him in the face with a fish and he couldn't quite understand why.

"How do YOU know about it?"

The slight, not quite hidden offence in the grey mech's tone told the spy that Bluestreak considered it one of the few secrets between himself and his lovers.

"Ratchet had to tell me about it after the… 'fragging incident'. When I was under the influence of that drug, I got to Sunstreaker. I immobilised him and infected him… I… triggered memories. THOSE memories. I didn't even know I was doing it at the time, I was too hazed."

Dawning comprehension lit the gunners face and Bumblebee gave him a regretful look. The door wings had gone up into a rigid 'V' in alarm and his faceplate fell.

"No… oh, no, Sunny… you mean… THAT'S why he's been more moody and distant. I thought It was because you got hurt but… no, he started doing that right after the 'fragging incident', Primus almighty… how did I miss that? And… and why didn't they just tell me!"

"Calm down Blue, I'm sure they had a reason. All I know is, apparently Sunstreaker's fixation on me before was something to do with me being the first minibot he actually _wanted_ to interface with. Sideswipe was thinking I could be the last step to helping him heal properly after all this time, but… then I went and fragged it up. Right now, we've just been trying to find ways to make it so Sunstreaker doesn't lose his control and attack me 'cause of the glitches whenever he sees me. THAT'S why they've been kind of obsessed with fragging me. I guess he might not have talked about it with you yet 'cause… well, you're my friend, and Sunstreaker is a pretty proud mech. I don't think he wants to admit to the glitches to anyone that doesn't already know."

Bumblebee talked in a low, soothing tone, trying to get across as much of an apology as he could to his friend.

Bluestreak did seem much consoled over the issue, despite his worry for his lover.

Bumblebee knew that the gunner's relationship with the twins was more intense than any others the frontliners had entertained, but it wasn't until now that he began to see real emotional depth.

Given that the Twins gave him just a little glimpse into what they were like as lovers beyond berth partners, he supposed he shouldn't feel so surprised by the revelation. But to be fair, neither Sideswipe nor Sunstreaker were very good at doing sincere, spark-felt 'mushy' stuff in front of others. The relationship's solidarity seemed to be something for behind closed doors.

The beetle realised too, that to some degree… his relationship with Jazz and Prowl was exactly the same. Albeit for different reasons.

"I still don't get why he didn't just TELL me." Bluestreak's voice was quiet and hurt, his door wings drooping and a slight frown on his faceplate.

"Maybe he didn't want you to be mad at me? They know we're friends. And well… maybe they didn't want to worry you." Bumblebee mused sympathetically.

Bluestreak's door wings gave a harsh twitch and a slight look of irritation crossed his faceplate as he put his elbows on his knees and rested his head on his servos.

"I'm not a sparkling who needs to have everyone pretend everything around me is just fine and dandy, and they KNOW that. They KNOW I hate that. I guess I'll just have to ask. But… thanks Bee. I didn't mean to accuse you or anything, I just wish they'd TALK to me properly, but they're all distracted lately. At least now I know why."

"I can smack Sideswipe upside the helm next time I see him for you if you like?" Bumblebee suggested innocently.

Bluestreak sniggered. "Yea, cheers. Well… I'm gonna grab a cube and run, I meant to go to the shooting range and get some time in before patrol. That'll take my processor off it for a while at least. Oh! I almost forgot… you know that transfer from Cybertron is coming in tomorrow?"

The silver datsun's door wings perked up as he rolled onto his pedes and made towards the energon dispenser.

Bumblebee did a double take at the words. "What? Wait, how do you know? And more importantly, how do you know before I do? I'm the intel mech!"

Bluestreak giggled as he filled up a cube, mood bouncing back up quickly. It was hard for anything to keep the gunner down for long.

"Well, actually, I heard by accident yesterday. I was walking past the security centre when Blaster came out and Red Alert was having a fit over it to Inferno. All his security measures aren't in place yet, apparently. Blaster said the schedule had moved forward to take advantage of a break in Decepticon offensive capabilities, and they didn't want to waste the chance of the clean getaway from the planet."

Bumblebee nodded, a sudden bubble of excitement rising within him.

"Sweet, that means I won't be stuck with one servo for much longer. I tell you, I have never appreciated having two more than I do now." the spy said eagerly.

Bluestreak snickered and opened his mouth.

Bumblebee beat him to it though.

"If you make one crack about self-servicing from that comment I'll tell Sideswipe you miss being cuffed to a berth and toy-tortured."

* * *

"Oh come on Prowl, why won't you tell me? You can't just say there's an extra surprise on that ship for me and then not spill the solder chips, that's just cruel!"

Jazz snickered at Bumblebee's side as they walked towards the entrance together, the Tactician walking a little ahead of them and playfully swinging his hips seductively as they passed through corridors where he was sure no one would see.

The beetle couldn't see the datsun's face-plate, but he knew he was smirking in that little amused way of his.

"Oh, Bee, you have NO idea of Prowl's threshold for cruel secret keeping. He is an undisputed master I tell ya."

"Are you discounting your own operatives abilities Jazz? Or your own, for that matter?" Prowl asked lightly, the barest hint of teasing in his tone.

Jazz chuckled. "Mech, we don't even let ya know we're keeping' secrets. We don't tease anybody with tidbits unless we're blackmailin'".

"Hmmm, speaking of Blackmail, I could always threaten to release that personal recording from the log room if you don't tell me what the big surprise is…" Bumblebee stated in a voice far too innocent for the images that ran through the SIC's processor. The door wings ahead of them quivered, and for a moment the minibot thought he might have actually found a way to get the datsun to talk.

"Really, Bumblebee? Blackmailing a superior officer, you're entering dangerous territory, even for a special ops mech."

Jazz chuckled again and flicked a finger at a door wing, causing it to flinch and flutter slightly.

"We both know that's nothin' compared to some o' the threats I've made to ya Prowler."

"Yes, but you're of equal rank." Prowl said simply, an inkling of his amusement seeping through.

"Well, if Blackmail is out of the question, I could always threaten to withhold certain personal services, _sir._ I'm quite sure there aren't any rules about that…"

Bumblebee's voice was light, but a little too breezy to be innocent.

Prowl remained silent, but his wings drooped and flicked up once or twice. The spy could read the slight uncertainty as to how serious he took the threats just from those tiny motions, but the black and white remained stubbornly silent.

"Sorry Bee, but if I ain't cracked him in as many years, ya ain't got a chance. Just gonna hafta wait n see… not like you'll be waitin' long anyway, looks like the shuttle is ahead o' schedule."

They had reached the entrance of the Ark, and as they walked into the bright sunlight, a glimmering shape was visible high in the sky.

They stood in rank formation beside Optimus Prime and Trailbreaker, who were already waiting a small way down the path from the entrance.

As the ship made it's approach, more curious mechs spilled from the Ark and stood in lose formation closer to the entrance.

Skyfire swooped over their helms and banked around to guide the approaching shuttle in, leading them onto the makeshift runway on the desert floor. An area cleared of all the larger rocks and shrubs.

Once the golden-orange ship had made a smooth, if not slightly wobbly landing, The large form of Optimus seemed to loose a lot of tension from posture.

Bumblebee knew he would have been worried for the safety of the crew until they touched down, that was always his way. Especially since the shuttle had launched earlier than planned.

The minibot watched curiously as the hatch of the ship opened on the side nearest them and a ramp extended out. It was an old class of cruiser, and many patch-welds and slapped on sections of different paint shades told it had been far from flight-worthy without some work, but it seemed no worse for wear after it's trip.

The first mech to exit was a dusty green colour, and a model that looked like it had owned the shuttle since it was new. It could only be one mech.

"Kup, it is good to see you old friend." Optimus sounded especially pleased to welcome the ancient legend of a mech as he strode towards the shuttle, Prowl and Trailbreaker (who was there as a security representative), following while Jazz and Bumblebee remained behind.

"Always with the 'old'! What, am I showing it now or something'?"

Kup groused, but he wore a huge grin as he strode down the ramp and opened his arms wide in greeting.

Optimus chuckled, and they embraced briefly, Kup giving the bigger mech a hearty few slaps on the back-plates before they pulled back.

"It's good to see you again commander-"

"Ah c'mon kid, just call me Kup. Not gonna have any of this 'commander' crud outta you Prime, ya ain't my underling. Hope we didn't fritz that security director of yours pushing the schedule forward, where is Red? I thought he'd be out here givin' me an audio-full."

Bumblebee stopped paying attention to Optimus and Kup's discussion as the rest of the shuttle crew began to emerge. The first mech out was one he didn't recognise. A tall, solidly built mech of a richer hue of green than Kup. He was carrying a large crate, on the other end of which was a mech Bumblebee knew only from his file image. Sandstorm was chattering away happily as they brought out their cargo of extra materials.

Following them came yet another mech, one that Bumblebee knew would have the base in a stir. Formerly the most famous racer on Cybertron, Blur stepped out of the ship with his own crate, and it was apparent Sandstorm had actually been talking to the blue mech, not the green one on the other end of his crate.

Bumblebee's optics were drawn to the ship again as a completely different form exited. A pink and white femme stepped out, a rifle case over one shoulder and an ammo bag in the other.

At first, the only notable thing that drew Bumblebee's attention to her was that she was a femme, but beyond that, he hadn't seen her personnel file.

Then she laughed at something Blurr said… and something in the back of his mind clicked.

He KNEW that laugh.

"No way."

Bumblebee gaped, and then turned his disbelieving look on the saboteur.

Beside him, Jazz grinned and chuckled. "Prowl said he found out her old designation when Kup accidentally referred to her by it during a video conference. He only found out the day they decided to launch early. A small background check and it turned out it was your Astra. Guess we get to work with your cherry-popper Bee."

Bumblebee would have replied. He would have run over to the femme, ecstatic to see her despite her frame modifications and increased size, he would have thrown his arms around her and welcomed her to Earth…

But the last occupant of the ship had just exited.

And there was absolutely no way the spy could mistake him, despite his own changes.

Jazz tilted his helm.

"Ah thought you'd be more excited? What's up Bee?"

"I…have to go for a bit. I'll see you back at your quarters later OK?"

Bumblebee tried to keep his voice light, but there was a flat edge he just couldn't hide. His bubble had been burst before it had even fully formed.

"Huh? What's up mech? I thought you'd wanna say hi to Astra. Ain'tcha over the moon to see her again? Wait, this ain't 'cause of your missin' arm is it?"

Jazz was confused, and didn't bother to hide his concern.

Bumblebee shook his helm, stepping so that he was blocked from view of the shuttle's crew.

"No, I am excited to see her, it's not the arm… it's _him._ "

Jazz frowned, looking between Bumblebee and the mech who the minibots optics had locked onto.

"What, Hot Rod? Ya know the mech?"

"Not as Hot Rod, no. As Ignitor."


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey Bumblebee, come over to my lab if you're free, I've got something for ya.**

_**My arm couldn't possibly be finished already Wheeljack? The remaining materials only just got off the ship.** _

**Nah Bee, it's your 'commission'. I was wondering if I shouldn't wait till all the excitement over the new arrivals had passed, but I just can't! Ya gotta come see them, I think I've outdone myself.**

_**So long as you haven't outdone yourself in the explosion category… I can come down but uh… the new mechs aren't still delivering the materials to your lab are they?** _

**Huh? No, they aren't here, Brawn already delivered that stuff, new mechs are being briefed on the Ark layout and operations. Why?**

_**I'll tell you when I get there. Leave your ventilation grate open will ya?** _

**Err… sure thing Bee. Be interested to know who you're avoiding.**

_**Be there soon.** _

Wheeljack rubbed absently at a helm panel in confusion as Bumblebee cut the comm. line. He would be more worried that the beetle was going to such lengths and travelling the ventilation shafts with only one arm just to avoid someone, but his excitement over the completed project was eclipsing everything else in his processor.

Bumblebee crawled out of the vent about a breem later, and Wheeljack helped him to his pedes and brushed some metal filings off him.

"Old one night stander? Don't tell me, it was that Triple changer Sandstorm wasn't it? I've heard about his reputation…" Wheeljack's tone was teasing, and his helm fins flashed a cheeky pink.

Bumblebee gave him a small sound of amusement, but his faceplate was set in a barely concealed grimace.

"No. I'll tell you after, you sounded pretty excited about the project, can I see?"

Wheeljack gave him a look that said 'ok, but I'll hold you to telling me', before he shrugged and beckoned the yellow and black mech over to his work bench.

A sheet lay over the bulky items, and Wheeljack whisked it off with a gleeful "ta-daaaa!"

Bumblebee's mood improved instantaneously, and he stepped forward, reaching out to touch the planes of the beautifully crafted works.

"Wooow 'Jack… you really DID out-do yourself… they're fantastic!"

The engineers helm panels glowed with pride.

"Well, I can't take all the credit really. Blaster helped a lot with working out the practical kinks, but the designs are mine. Actually, Blaster was so interested in the whole idea of them he asked for his own."

Bumblebee flashed him a quick look. "You never told him it was my idea though did you?"

The Lancia waved a servo carelessly. "No, of course not. Blaster is smart, he'd have made the connection as soon as you gave them to Jazz and Prowl. He's probably going to think Jazz commissioned them for Prowl and himself, thus never implicating you at all. I may be a lowly engineer, but I can do this espionage stuff too yanoe."

Wheeljack teased him, and Bumblebee beamed at him with a chuckle.

"Thanks 'Jack, I really owe you one for these."

The Engineer merely waved him off again, helm panels flashing.

"Naaah, what are friends for? Anyway, this was a fascinating project, and chances are I'll end up with mechs asking for their own. But hey, the IDEA was yours, these are on the house. Oh, I also wrote up some manuals for them, here's the data pads."

Wheeljack took a few pads off the bench-top and handed them to the spy, who grinned broadly.

"I don't think I'll be able to put off giving them to them. I was going to make it 18 orn anniversary thing, but that's not for another 5 joors."

"Aw, why wait? Besides, humans don't always, they're lax about their gift giving protocols so I'm sure we can afford to be. Now… who exactly did you not want to meet here hmm?"

Bumblebee sighed, having hoped Wheeljack would overlook it. But then, he supposed if they had to integrate the new arrivals, it would come out sooner or later.  
The minibot turned to lean with his back to the bench.  
"OK, well… there's a good thing and a bad thing. The good thing is, that femme that was brought down with the others-"

"There's a femme?" Wheeljack's audial fins flashed a surprised/excited golden yellow, and Bumblebee couldn't help but smile.

"Yeees 'Jack. Her name is Arcee. But I used to know her when she was Astra."

Wheeljack looked non-plussed for a moment before his helm fins flashed light blue.

"Hey, wasn't she your first… oh WOW, that's some crazy coincidence! Ha, has she changed much since you knew her?"

The beetle shrugged, sobering again.  
"Don't know. Haven't talked to her yet. I'd LIKE to, but there was another mech that came that I'm avoiding. Uhm… There's this bot called Hot Rod… his original designation was Ignitor."

The engineer's helm panels immediately flashed in surprise again, but for a moment he didn't say anything.

"You sure? I mean I know he was a bad ex, but if he reformatted after you knew him, how do you know for sure it's him and not just a similar frame type… with the same colour scheme… and a similarly themed designa-… uh. Hmm. Guess it's too much of a coincidence huh."

The minibot shook his helm ruefully.

"I know what he reformatted to look like, and I knew back then what designation he changed to. It's him. I don't want to go near him for as long as I can manage it. Especially not in public, he'd recognise me, and I don't want to speak to him, let alone have him talk AT me."

Wheeljack's fins flashed a sympathetic deep blue and he crossed his arms in thought.

"Well… you can't avoid him forever. You _sure_ he'll remember you? I mean, he treated you pretty bad, but it wasn't a long fling was it? And you never know, he might have changed. War does some intense stuff to a bot."

Bumblebee sighed through his vents and nodded.

"Nah, you're right 'Jack. I haven't even tested the waters… I'm going to wait till I can get a moment alone with him though. Just in case he HASN'T changed."

The beetle debated internally about finally confessing to Wheeljack that Igni-… Hot Rod, had not just called their relationship a joke, but had done it publicly. He still didn't want to stir up trouble. He certainly didn't want to make it seem like he was trying to sic his friends on bots that had hurt him.

He was, after all, quite capable of taking care of his own problems.

"Better sooner rather than later, I'm sure crawling through vents everywhere would get tiring after a while, even with two arms."

The engineers helm panels flickered as he teased, getting a small smile out of the minibot.

"True. Plus, I do want to finally be able to say hi to Astra again."

Wheeljack's optics flashed.

"Aaaah, it's going to be a vent of fresh air to have a femme around again. They just manage to bring… I dunno, another level of order to things. And their processing paths are refreshingly different! I'll finally have two sided assessments of my work… assuming she doesn't mind giving an opinion."

Bumblebee snickered.

"Sounds like someone already has a crush on my ex."

Wheeljack huffed.

"Just because I'm happy we have a representative of the fairer processing type on board at last, doesn't mean I have a 'crush'."

"The colour of your helm lights says different. And are you sure it's the fairer processor you're interested in and not the frame type?"

The spy grinned broadly as the Lancia became even more flustered.

"Geez! Can't a mech be happy to see a femme again without others assuming they just wanna cross wires? So what if I DO appreciate her frame type as well? There's an aesthetic poetry to them that you just don't see in mechs… well, except maybe Sunstreaker, but I'm talking curves! Anyway, you're not in any position to tease me, she took YOUR seal."

The both of them cracked up laughing.

Their laughter only doubled when Blaster strode in and exclaimed something about how unbelievably awesome it was that they finally had a femme on board.

* * *

"Keep those optics offline… Jazz! I can SEE you've got your visor on stealth, don't make me blindfold you."

Prowl chuckled, optics resolutely offline and door wings fluttering curiously as Jazz pouted and offlined his visor properly.

Once Bumblebee was certain they were ready, he keyed open Jazz's door and led them inside.

He stood them both carefully in front of their respective gifts and gave them the OK to online their optics again.

The two were silent as they took in the two cloth covered objects. Throwing each other a glance as Bumblebee stood behind them, grinning.

Together, they moved forward and uncovered their presents, gasping.

"Oh, BEE… it's…"

"Holy frag mech! Where'd ya even GET these?"

Bumblebee's grin, if possibly, got even wider, and he bounced on his pedes.

"Wheeljack made them for me! Apparently he got Blaster to help him, but I got the idea from Prowl saying he wished he could play a human cello. These are supposed to sound exactly the same as traditional human versions, but they're scaled for Cybertronians, and you can also make them play with several sound affectations. Those data pads with them are manuals 'Jack put together."

He watched happily as Jazz and Prowl picked up their respective instruments and inspected them with awe and a kind of reverence.  
Prowl's Cello was a rich bronze with platinum inlay details. It was shaped roughly like the original instrument, but with a distinct classical Cybertronian influence.

The tactician detached the magnetic bow from the back of the instrument's neck, and immediately the laser-light 'strings' onlined.

He gasped softly, testing the bow against them and making a pleased sound as a reverberating note sounded, just like the Cellos from his favourite pieces of music.  
Meanwhile, Jazz was absorbed in inspecting his own instrument.

The gleaming silver coloured electric saxophone was made in the same style as Prowl's Cello. It sported Bronze detailing in a negative colour palette to the SIC's instrument, it's keys lighting up with a soft white glow as Jazz put it between in his lap-plates and vented into the mouth piece.  
It responded to the force of air, changing pitch, the keys lighting up a myriad of different colours as he took it through a few scales.

After a klik, Prowl began to play along with the Saboteur's aimless meandering tune.  
Bumblebee moved to sit on the berth, listening to the impromptu private performance with a huge grin plastered across his face-plate.  
It went on for about a Breem before Jazz brought it to something of a close, being the experienced musician between them while Prowl followed.  
"Well… I'm no virtuoso yet, but this… even just having the chance now to try my servo…"  
Prowl seemed slightly lost for words.

He and Jazz shared a look before putting down their instruments and, quite literally, pouncing Bumblebee, who squeaked.  
"Mmmmm ah think some mech here needs a biiiiig thankyou." Jazz purred, pinning the minibot to the berth with a wicked grin.  
"Heh… I take it you like them then? Just a little?" the spy snickered with a cheeky look.  
"I think we better show you just how much." Prowl's tone was so sultry Bumblebee felt himself melt beneath it, and before he knew what was happening, a pair of mouths and glossas were assaulting him.  
Bumblebee squirmed, engine revving as he mewled, his own servo seeking out armour gaps to reciprocate, but the black and white mechs each took his wrist and pinned it above his helm.  
"Ah-ah Bee… y'already gave us a present, it's our turn."

Jazz's purr and the look on his faceplate made Bumblebee shiver with anticipation.  
The pair worked their mouths and servos down his frame, Prowl slipping between the beetle's legs, kneeling as Jazz slid up onto the berth.  
They released Bumblebee's arm, but Jazz kept his upper body pinned, lying perpendicular to him and sliding a servo firmly over his midriff to play with his lower windshield.  
Bumblebee moaned as the SIC's fine white digits trailed down his legs and slid beneath them to hook his arms around Bumblebee's thighs.  
He lifted and spread them slowly and began to nuzzle and lap teasingly at the yellow panel.

Jazz's other servo went to help Prowl tease the codpiece, making the minibot arch and keen softly.  
He moaned when Jazz opened him up and Prowl's warm ventilations brushed his bare equipment.  
The two officers did not bother wasting time, Bumblebee gasping and keening as two mouths attacked his valve and spike housing eagerly.  
He bucked slightly with a cry as Prowl's glossa danced across the platelets around his port entrance, while Jazz's mouth sealed around his spike housing and sucked gently, glossa teasing the exposed tip of his hub.  
Thrashing slightly in ecstasy, it wasn't long before Bumblebee's spike unlatched and began to pressurise straight into the saboteur's eager mouth.  
He could feel the datsun pressing the flat of his glossa teasingly against his entrance, hot lubricant flowing so fast down his valve in response it made him shiver.  
His small servo clawed at the berth, feeling the Porsche rumble in amusement and arousal around his cable.  
The sound sent waves of pleasure rolling through his spike and he bucked again, but his hips didn't really move anywhere thanks to Prowl's solid grip around his thighs.

Bumblebee writhed and lost all control over the sounds he was making when Jazz began bobbing up and down on his spike, Prowl's glossa pressing into him and going as deep as it could, lapping up his lubricant and teasing his inner nodes. He arched against the berth, whimpering his lovers designations and crying out as it made them both moan and rev, the vibrations travelling straight into his equipment, pleasure shooting in hot waves right to his spark.  
It didn't take him long to get to the edge of overload, and that's when he realised the two were synchronising their attack via comms, because there was no other way they could have so perfectly timed Jazz's denta scraping lightly up his cable while Prowl sealed his lips over his valve and _sucked.  
_ Bumblebee cried out loud and long as he overloaded hard.

Electric surges travelled up and down his spinal strut in a haze of ecstasy and he arched.  
When the pleasure ebbed into a delicious buzz, he lay panting and limp, moaning softly.  
"I should… get you guys presents more often."  
The other two laughed, and it made him twitch because they hadn't removed themselves from his interface equipment.  
Prowl's smooth voice came over his comm. The servos on his thighs rubbing the black metal beneath them.

**Don't think we're done with you just yet.**

* * *

The three of them lay panting and a little messy about two cycles later, soft funk playing in the background to match their sated moods, and it was a while before any of them spoke.  
"So whaddya suppose Blaster got 'Jack to make him as an instrument?" Jazz mused in a lazy rumble.  
"Well… you'd probably have a better guess than either of us, he's your best friend after all." Prowl replied, amused. His wings twitched lazily in the air as he remained slumped on his front.  
Bumblebee looked over at him and giggled.  
Prowl pulled a face. Which for him involved a slight move of the orbital ridges. "What?"  
"Y've got lubricant on your chin." Bumblebee giggled, rolling over and licking it off, giving him a peck on the lip-plates.  
"Mmmmm… tastes like yours Jazz." He noted.  
The saboteur chuckled heartily, stretching a little in a rather feline manner.  
"We-eeeell… if ah know him, he'll wanna show it off as soon as he can… which means tomorrow night at the welcoming party."  
Bumblebee grimaced a little. "I'll see it from the vents then."  
"Aw now don't be like that. I ain't havin' Hot Rod spoil a perfectly good party for ya, even if it's a party that's kinda for him." Jazz said  
"Mmmm well if I come, it'll be late. The more into the party he is, the less likely he is to notice me." The minibot murmured with a sigh.  
"Yeeeah but then y'don't get to have fun, 'cause yer just preoccupied with hiding from him the whole time." The Porsche said, scratching around a horn and making the beetle press into it, purring from his engine.  
"I'll be there to make sure things don't get out of hand with the whole initiation ritual ideas I've been hearing about. We can enjoy the party together, I'm pretty sure my reputation as a hard aft proceeds me. I don't think the new recruits will want to come within a mile, so you should be safe."  
Prowl murmured, playing idly with one of the beetle's shoulder tyres.  
Bumblebee opened his mouth to reply with thanks, and that he didn't really have THAT bad of a reputation through the base, but his comm link pinged with Wheeljack's frequency.

**Hey 'Jack, what's up?**

You better get your aft down to med bay, unless you've grown attached to all the bad puns.

The engineer sounded cheery, and Bumblebee was momentarily perplexed by the comment, until realisation of what the Lancia was elluding to hit him.

**My arm's ready?**

Fresh off the forging line, didn't take long once we had the rest of the components we needed. Come down so we can welcome you back to the land of full dexterity.

* * *

Bumblebee felt like a new mech once Ratchet was done with him. The medic hadn't even grumbled, muttered, or sworn very much, which meant he was in an alright mood as well.  
This may have been because Sideswipe was on punishment detail and had to put all his new supplies away for him, leaving him free to enjoy not doing inventory and supply sorting.  
He walked back towards Jazz's quarters, flexing the arm as Ratchet had instructed, breaking in the fresh joints and spreading the oils and lubricants around to make motion easier.  
The cables were all rather stiff, but heat and use would normalise them  
He was so busy admiring the craftsmanship of the arm and wondering what sort of present he could get Wheeljack and Perceptor in thanks, when pedesteps behind him registered.  
Running ones.  
He turned, curious about what the hurry was, who it was, and whether he should jump out of the way.  
But something slammed into him bodily, pinning him against the wall.

"Heeeeeey there Honey Beeeeee. Been lookin' out for you y'know. Where ha~aave you been hiding from me hmm?"  
Bumblebee was so stunned by Hot Rod's sudden appearance and bodily assault, that after a beat, he reacted instinctively, kicking out against a sensitive side seam.  
The flame painted mech dropped him with a grunt, frowning for a moment before his expression bounced back up to a coy smirk.  
"Aaaaaw miss me? Still like it a little rough huh? That can be arraaanged" He made to pin the beetle again, but Bumblebee deflected the move and stepped back, an 'are you serious' look plastered on his faceplate.  
Hot Rod went into pout mode, crowding the minibot and leaning down, sidling up as Bumblebee leant back and tried to keep his distance.  
"Heeey c'mooooon. I was really excited when I heard you were on the base. Aren't you gonna even say hi? Here I thought you might appreciate someone who actually wants to 'face you coming to the base. I mean, fffff, you can't be getting much in this lot huh? Am I right? So what do you say to a quickie. You and me and one of the absent officer's desks, for old times sake? You know I miss that gorgeous little tight valve of yours, and I know you miss my nice thick spike~"

Hot Rod seemed oblivious to the increasingly stony look on Bumblebee's face as the flame painted mech ran his servos boldly up Bumblebee's arms, one leaning on the wall over his helm and teasing the very tip of a horn as he leaned his smirking faceplate in… as if expecting a kiss…  
 _No,_ Bumblebee thought, _as if he expects me to just jump him and want him, like I'm desperate.  
_

"No."  
Hot rod looked momentarily very confused… as if he didn't understand that word and had never heard it before.  
"What? No, seriously, come on, I love it, you love it, I know you do, why wait?"  
Hot Rod pressed just a little further into his personal space, trying and… sort of succeeding… to look seductive.  
But Bumblebee wasn't interested in how seductive he looked.  
"I said, No, thankyou." Bumblebee said in his quietest, most polite voice.  
If Hot Rod was going to play dumb, he'd just play the sweetspark card.

Hot Rod frowned and got a little more touchy-feely, rubbing the horn and making the spy conceal even more of his irritation behind a stony façade.  
"Aww quit playing with me Bee, I know you want me. I never forgot you, always wanted to taste my sweet-Bee again, been waiting all this time, fighting the good fight on Cybertron, you're not going to denyyyy me now are you?"  
"Yeees I am. I said no." Bumblebee replied exceedingly politely.  
Hot Rod got a glint in his optic and his customary smirk returned.  
"Oooooh I get it… we're playing hard to get, aren't we? We~eeell, I know how to play that little game, I believe it goes somatising like THIS."

Hot Rod cupped and squeezed against Bumblebee's codpiece, and several things happened very quickly.  
There were a series of loud clangs and revving engines, and within two astroseconds, Hot Rod was flat on his back, and Bumblebee crouched over him with his newly reattached forearm pressed against the mech's throat tubing rather hard.

His face was still an unreadable mask, and in the politest tone he could manage, he said "You must not have heard me, _Ignitor…_ I said no, and I meant no. No, I don't want to frag you. No, I have not been pining after you, and no, I am not playing hard to get. Do NOT, speak to me. Ever. Again."  
And he walked away.

* * *

He did not look back.  
He didn't pay attention to the sounds of footsteps from the other end of the corridor either, he didn't stop until he got to his quarters.  
He was very glad Cliffjumper was not there, because he didn't want to explain why he rammed his fist into the wall beside the door as soon as it was closed.  
He ignored the pain that shot up from dented knuckle-plating. He'd have to go to Wheeljack later and ask him to realign the joints. Right now though, he didn't care.

He was so angry he could barely focus.

He ex-vented hard, plonking down on his berth and scowling at the floor.

He wasn't even mad at Hot Rod. It wasn't exactly out of character for the mech… hell, wasn't that just the sort of thing he'd been expecting and hoping to avoid?

No, he was angry with himself.

He'd reacted. Easily and badly. Not that anyone would challenge him for how he'd handled it, Hot Rod had been in his face and way out of line, but the fact of the matter was he was disappointed in _himself_ simply because he should have been…

Better than that? No, more like over it. Past it. Frag, it had happened so long ago. And yet he'd reacted like it had been maybe a year ago?

Either way, he couldn't even process what must have been going through Hot Rod's processor.

He acted like he'd never done anything wrong by Bumblebee… like they'd parted as lovers who had no choice but to go their separate ways.

Was something wrong with his memory banks or something?

Bumblebee felt even worse. What if something HAD happened to Hot Rod that he knew nothing about, something that had destroyed all but the more fleeting of memories.

In which case he'd just assaulted him without the mech having any context for it.

Then again, he had been obnoxiously forward… and if he remembered him well enough to know they had interfaced more than once, then he can't have been changed much by any memory altering incident. He would still be a total jerk.

And really, he hadn't hurt him badly, just thrown him on his aft.

SOMEONE had seen him do it too. He hadn't really cared much at the time that he'd heard other mechs at the other end of the corridor, but he wondered now who it was, and whether he should have remained to explain himself or not.

He rubbed his new servo over his faceplate. At least he'd punched with his old arm, and he looked over the damage. There was only the dull discomfort of slightly misaligned gears and pressure on them from the dented plating. Nothing major or in need of immediate attention.

He felt sick as the anger abated, and was wondering what to do with himself when he got a ping.

**Bumblebee, can you come to my office? You're not in trouble or anything, I thought you might just like to vent if you've cooled down.**

Bumblebee wilted on his berth. Well, Prowl either heard from whoever had seen him, or Prowl had BEEN one of the other bots.

**Yea…I'm coming. Just tell me where the slagger is so I can avoid him on the way there.**

**I sent him to the Medbay to do some punishment detail with Sideswipe. He can be shown the ropes as it were, I get the feeling he's going to be requiring other such punishments in the future if Springer's stories are anything to go by.**

Bumblebee got off his berth and left his quarters, heading for the 2IC's office.

* * *

Thankfully he met no one on the way, and the door was already open when he got there.

"Well, he was certainly much further out of line than I thought he would dare be."

The tactician growled, remote commanding the door to close behind the beetle.

Bumblebee flumped down into a chair somewhat despondently.

"I over-reacted though. Coulda just shoved him away and told him to go hump a blender."

Prowl sat back and gave him an appraising look.

"Actually, I liked what you did do better. Mind you, I only came in about half a klik before you schooled him, but Sunstreaker agreed, given what we heard and saw, that your dispatch method was likely the best course of action considering he seems to have an amazing ability to ignore the word 'no'."

"So it WAS you at the end of the corridor… and Sunny? And… he didn't, y'know, trigger or anything?"

Prowl shook his helm, winglets twitching up hopefully as he leant forward. "No, nothing. He was as surprised as we are. Hehn, there is a slightly funny side to this though…"

Bumblebee gave him an enquiring look, sick feeling dissipating a little more with the comfort of Prowl's approval and support.

"Oh? I assume you're not referring to the fact he got his aft handed to him by a minibot, cause I know you know that's not really all that funny."

"No, no, not that. Pit, a microbot could probably knock him down, he's too cocky to have integrated any hand-to-hand combat properly. No, it's more to do with how neither Sunstreaker or I rushed forward to assist you in a jealous fit of possessiveness. Don't get me wrong… if my control was not so well practiced, I would have done the aft-kicking myself… and from what I saw of Sunstreaker's expression, so would he…" Prowl stopped, smirking widely.

"Soooo why DIDN'T you both end up jumping the sleaze?" the yellow mech asked curiously.

"Well… I think we were both trying not to show to each other how jealous we were. I mean, I can't let him see it in me, because it might tip him off to our relationship… and I don't think he wanted to let me of all mechs see him get possessive of you, in case I got the wrong idea probably. And it's funny since he has no idea that I'M one of your secret lovers he's so desperate to find out the identity of."

Bumblebee absorbed all this, and ended up slumping back in the chair and laughing heartily.

"Oh Primus… my life is ridiculous. I feel like I should just submit my memory caches to a soap opera writer and have people sit down with energon goodies and watch it."

Prowl chuckled as well. "I've not actually watched any of those drama shows. But I will trust your assessment. I suppose there has been rather a lot of intrigue and absurdity of late for you hasn't there?"

Prowl's winglets twitched and his gaze averted to his desk as he took a comm call.

Bumblebee gathered himself, sitting up in his chair again and leaning forward slightly, wondering what the matter was as the tactician frowned.

Prowl let out a burdened sigh and got to his pedes.

"I'll be back in a moment. Seems Sunstreaker may have relayed the events he witnessed to his twin. Sideswipe has gotten Hot Rod all riled and Ratchet wants me down there to knock their helms together. Should only take a breem or so, and I'll come by and collect you so we can get some energon with Jazz."

The Spy leant back in his chair and nodded. "Feel free to throw Hot Rod in the Brig. Y'know… as some kind of initiation. Couldn't hurt."

Prowl gave him a smirk and a flick of his wings before disappearing out the door.

Bumblebee let out an expansive sigh, looking around the office for something to distract him as he waited. Seeing Prowl's desk in more disorder than usual (mechs purposefully plonked their reports there messily as if to annoy the SIC, which Bumblebee had ALWAYS thought to be rather stupid, because Prowl had enough to be getting on with without their passive aggressiveness), the beetle got up and started to rearrange the pads how he knew the datsun liked them.

The door had been left open, but he heard no-one coming or going. The hiss of it shutting seemed odd, but he supposed Prowl had a shutting timer for when he forgot… perhaps if he rushed out to battle.

It was such a tiny gesture of efficiency to not stop and close the door but have it do it on it's own, that it screamed Prowl at him and made him grin.

It was quite a shock when a pair of strong, firm servos picked him up and placed him front-first onto the desk.

Bumblebee cried out and made to counter, trying to twist around, but the assailant pressed down on him, capturing his wrists and pinning his legs with strong thighs.

For a moment, Bumblebee had the insane, infuriating, disgusting notion that it was Hot Rod, come to force his will…

But then the mech growled his engine, and the timbre was oh so distinctive... And so not Hot Rod.

The minibot craned his neck around, the sultry, grinning face-plate coming into view.

"Sunstreaker!"

"Shhhhh… it's OK… I can do this. I can control it. I can…"

The hoarse words seemed as much for the golden twin's own benefit as they were to assuage Bumblebee's alarm.

The beetle tried to relax… but there was still an edge to the way Sunstreaker moved against him, servos sliding with quick, unplanned movements down his sides, over his thighs…

"Sun… you sure?…I mean… I-I'm OK if you… but… what's happened? Why right now? And here, I don't think it's a very goo-aha…ahn~"

The frontliner growled lustfully as he slid the spy's panel open and began to finger his port slowly.

"When I saw that fragger touching you… I thought I was going to lose it. And then…"

He drove a digit slowly into the port, making the beetle gasp, squirm and shudder.

"Then I thought I was going to feel like you deserved it… which I hated… but that never happened…"

He added another digit, and Bumblebee keened softly.

"And then you served him and ooooooh I thought I was going to FRAG you right then and there… that other feeling came back, the one that made me want you before."

Keening softly as a third finger stretched him and made him buck against the desk, Bumblebee tried to master his vocaliser.

"Ah, g-goooood… it's worked… the positi-iive, hnn, re-re-enforcement… but Sun we ca-an't, here, not here, ah!"

Sunstreaker bent down, pumping his fingers faster, and kissed the minibot's lip-plates, parting with a nip.

"'Course we can. I can't wait, not now… it's OK, I can control this… just gotta think… remember… you fighting… nnnn so hot…"

"Ahhh… Sun, please… not h-nnnngh!"

Bumblebee was unable to master the effects that the hurried ministrations had on him, despite the fact he wasn't really feeling much in the mood.

The spy was sated from his earlier activities with Jazz and Prowl, and since then his systems had cleaned his valve, but the sensors were still keyed up, and every touch against them was too much.

He didn't want to deny Sunstreaker, not now, but the place and time were totally wrong, and the conflict only confused his haptic net more.

Before Bee really knew it, he felt the tip of a thick cord pressed against his entrance, and it began sliding in when he knew he wasn't really ready for it.

"Ah! Ghhhhhnnnh S-Sunnn… w-wai-ungh!"

The golden twin hushed him and groaned, sliding into the tight, hot valve. He would show him he could keep control, he would keep him on the edge of too much, he would make it as amazing as he always could.

His engine roared as his vents gushed hot air over the minibot's frame, Bumblebee shuddering and whimpering beneath him.

He knew the minibot loved to be filled, knew he was getting off on the stretch, and it only served to fuel his own lust.

He pulled back and gave a firm thrust, tearing a cry from the beetle that made him moan.

He latched his mouth around a horn and picked up a fast, firm pace as he sucked the sensory appendage.

Bumblebee's vocaliser barked static between warbles of pleasure/pain.

He was trying to adjust faster, but his unready port spasmed and clenched against the too fast spike.

The pleasure was dulled out by friction and heat, until it became uncomfortable.

It was mixed with the shooting ecstasy from his horn until it became a disorientating bombardment of input.

Bumblebee whimpered, off-lining his optics and clutching with shaking servos at the desk as he was pounded, the thick spike ramming into him again and again.

He began to fear it would tear him, and he couldn't take the pressure of the conflicting haptic data, the pinning down, and the anxiety.

"N-Noooo…ooooh… p-please…ah, s-s-sto-sto… hngh! PLEASE! SUNSTORM!"

Bumblebee gasped even as it slipped past his lip-plates, and suddenly, all movement ceased.

They panted, Bumblebee shivering, the toughliner's large servos relaxing and moving off his wrists, but Sunstreaker didn't pull out. The air was so thick with tension the spy could have cut it with a vibro-blade.

The minibot couldn't see his faceplates, and he had no idea what the stony silence meant as it stretched on. He thought the golden twin must be angry… offended… it was possibly the worst thing he'd even said to him after all.

"Did you… just… call me…"

Sunstreaker noticed Bumblebee flinch when he spoke, as if expecting a blow.

He knew Bumblebee hadn't intentionally tried to insult him somehow… he was more concerned, suddenly, with why he'd said THAT name.

"I-I'm sorry… I didn't mean to, it just… I…"

"Hey, calm down, I know you didn't mean to but… why HIM? How do you even know that Seeker? More importantly, why… would you call out his name?"

Bumblebee found his trembling got worse, and he couldn't stop it.

After the roller-coaster ride of emotions he'd been on, flipping back and forth from bliss to biterness all day, the realisation that he'd never felt so aweful during interface since the time Sunstorm had taken him by force just undid his control.

"I'm sorry, I can't… he… before the war… we were… and he… I'm sorry Sunny, I can't do this right now…"

He buried his faceplate in his arms, spark surging with a tumult of emotions backed up too much to process.

He was not used to being an emotional wreck. The realisation that he currently was when he didn't feel he ought to be wasn't helping.

"Oh, slag… was I hurting you? I'm sorry Bee, I was… I thought I could control myself.."

The mortified tone to the golden mech's voice didn't help, and Bumblebee shook his helm vehemently.

"Nonono… not the pain, wasn't THAT bad, it's just… long day… a lot going on. And then this just… felt too much like…"

Bumblebee's voice caught and he let out a bark of static.

"Hold on… do you mean Sunstorm once forced you to…?" Sunstreaker sounded horrified.

Bumblebee took in a deep vent to steady his nerve and try to calm himself.

"I didn't want to say no, I don't want to stop when we're so close to fixing what's happened. I pretty much… _raped_ you Sunstreaker… you've got the right to force me, if it helps. I said I'd make this right, and I will. We should finish this…"

"Woah, woah, hold up… Bee, you know what happened to me, so what I want to know is what happened to YOU. I don't want to hurt you, you know that."

The gentle tone of Sunstreaker's voice was enough to convince Bumblebee that the golden twin was not actually angry with him.

He gave a shuddering sigh and forced himself to relax.

"I was with Sunstorm back when I couriered. He came onto me, I went with it, it was fun for a little while until I found out all he wanted me for was as a trophy pet. To train me up into his interface slave, cow me and control me, and when I fought back, he went ahead and just…took me."

His tone was flat, dead, uncaring. He'd come to terms with the event much better than he had Ignitors betrayal, but after what had just happened, he felt dirty again… unworthy of Sunstreaker's attention, the old fear of being used returning.

"Primus almighty… you were able to actually… FIT him?"

Bumblebee glanced over his shoulder at Sunstreaker's awe filled exclamation, giving him a slightly incredulous look.

"Well… yea, I wouldn't have been able to frag Optimus while I was off my head on seeker aphrodisiac if I couldn't."

"Hoooly slagging Primus. No wonder I find you so damn hot."

Bumblebee snorted, looking away and cringing slightly. "I won't feel bad if you're not in the mood anymore" He murmured.

"No no, I want to make it up to you Bee… I can do this, I can control myself, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I was trying to make it good… I'll fix this."

He moved slowly, petting at the beetle's backplates.

Bumblebee shivered and whimpered, but the sensations felt… surprisingly _good_ after the harsh pounding rhythm from before.

Pretty quickly, and despite the awkward and negative emotions that had just flooded him moments before, the spy found himself a mewling, writhing mess.

Sunstreaker was GOOD. He'd always been good, but damnit when he made an effort to take it slow, he could blow processors.

The golden twin moaned as he rocked carefully into the tight little port pressing hard on his length.

Neither of them said anything, allowing the pleasure to sooth the tension out of them both, Sunstreaker revelling in his ability to think clearly, nothing telling him that Bumblebee was the enemy.

Likewise, Bumblebee thrilled in the apparent fact that not only was Sunstreaker overcoming his trauma glitch, but he wasn't repulsed by him even knowing he'd been had by a Seeker before.

The beetle moaned and scrabbled slightly against the desktop as the frontliner reached around and teased his pressurised cord. He ignored the clatter of data pads he was pushing off the desk, biting his already dented knuckles as his hips were hitched a little higher and Sunstreaker went deeper.

They both cried out in ecstasy, overload fast approaching, and the golden mech let a little loose again, Bumblebee's port now well prepared for firmer treatment.

The minibot keened and jerked in Sunstreaker's hold as the thick spike hit the back of his valve again and again, until he cried out loudly around his fist, overload hitting them both like a sledgehammer.

They both slumped against the desk as the shared climax waned, Sunstreaker leaning over to playfully pin Bumblebee down, licking a horn to make him squirm.

"Mmmmm feel better? I know I do."

"And here I thought I wasn't in the mood." Bumblebee chuckled.

"Guess I better get moving though… If Prowl comes back and catches us like this, we're both in the brig." the twin didn't sound particularly worried about being caught, which led the spy to believe he'd probably get fragged silly by the golden mech in the brig if that's where they were sent.

The frontliner pulled out slowly and carefully, the minibot wincing and pulling a slight face at the rawness of his valve.

It just so happened the door wooshed open to reveal a rather surprised Prowl and Ratchet at the very moment Bumblebee whimpered and Sunstreaker stopped.

The two in the office shared a momentary look of wide optic'd shock with the bots in the doorway before anything happened.

Sunstreaker pulled the rest of the way out rather quickly, and with a slight pop, the minibot jerking in shock with a squeak.

"This is so not what it looks like." Sunstreaker said in a deadpan voice, spike retracting and panel closing in record time.

Prowl's engine let out an impressive growl, and within a nanosec, there was an explosion of movement while Sunstreaker became a blur of gold, chased by a blur of Black and White.

The Twin barrelled out the door, knocking Ratchet over, earning an indignant shout from the medic and something that sounded suspiciously like 'I will castrate you' from Prowl.

It was another moment before the shell-shocked Bumblebee was able to scrabble off the desk, hastily swiping a cloth between his legs and throwing it in subspace, closing his panel and giving chase.

"Prowl! Ratchet! It's really NOT what it looked like-"

The two officers rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, and Bumblebee cursed, changing to vehicle mode to give chase.

Further ahead still, Sunstreaker pelted around the corridors, wondering just how he was going to get to the exit when he was going the wrong way.

"Sunny! Did it work? Did you make up with-"

"NO TIME. RUN."

The golden mech grabbed his brother's arm from where he'd popped out from a side corridor.

He didn't pay Hot Rod any attention, the two of them leaving the flame painted mech standing dumbstruck as they disappeared around another corner, Prowl and Ratchet hot on their pedes and sprouting vitriol.

Not even Bumblebee, shooting past three astroseconds after them in vehicle mode and beeping his horn loudly, noticed the red and yellow bot.

**Hey Bee! Why are we chasin' the twins? Not that it ain't fun, but Prowler seems kinda mad.**

Jazz drove up behind the spy as the chase continued past the rec. room where he'd poked his helm out curiously at the noise.

**Um… long story short, they walked in on Sunny and me when he had me over Prowl's desk and he was pulling out…**

The saboteur gave a stuttering rev behind him, and Bumblebee knew if he were in root mode he'd be rolling around laughing.

**It's not funny, they think he forced me!**

**Yea, but even if he didn't, he had ya over Prowler's desk. That's probably enough to get this kinda reaction.**

They had caught up to Prowl and Ratchet, who were hot on the heels of the two red and gold frontliners running for all they were worth.

Bee changed to root mode and hit the deck running, trying to catch one of the larger mechs arms to stop them, but they seemed deaf to his calls. He barked at Jazz to help, but the Porsche was too busy laughing his aft off as he ran to be much help.

They'd done a huge circuit by now which brought them past the corridor leading to Wheeljack's lab. The engineer walked out of it and into the path of imminent collision until Optimus yanked him back out of the way.

The pair watched the chase procession with the same wide optic'd confusion as Hot Rod had.

Optimus looked flat stunned, especially at Prowl's uncharacteristic murderous snarl.

Ratchet's was not so unusual. Nor was the wrench he was wielding, or the cry of "Hold still so I can aim, you slaggers!"

Wheeljack, on the other servo, shook his helm with an expression as if he'd been expecting and dreading the whole thing.

Bumblebee decided to give up as the four larger mechs all got ahead again, heedless to his calls.

He stood slumped and venting hard, Jazz already having stopped upon seeing Optimus.

"Dare I ask?" The larger mech said with a tentative, quizzical look at his third in command.

Jazz couldn't even answer, still in a fit of giggles.

Wheeljack tilted his helm in the equivalent of an optic roll and moved over to Bumblebee. He was somewhat curious as well.

"Prowl catch one of the twins coming onto you huh?" the engineer murmured.

Bumblebee nodded sheepishly.

"In Prowl's office. And then Sunny knocked Ratchet over getting out the door, so they both went after him." he clarified delicately.

The Lancia chuckled . "Ouch… well, I'm sure they'll get over it quickly. Not like he was fragging you or anything…"

Bumblebee fidgeted with his servos, looking away as his engine gave a telling little hiccup.

Wheeljack's helm fins flashed in alarm and he spread his arms in an exasperated gesture.

"Bumblebee!"

"What was I supposed to do? Say no?"

The beetle's faceplate was dull orange with embarrassed heat, and behind him he heard Jazz crack up in a new wave of laughter.

The scene was cut across rather dispiritingly by the alarm klaxon.

"Aw maaaan you kiddin'? 'Cons better not be doin' anythin' serious, or this will set the party back by at LEAST two days." Jazz pouted, changing back down to vehicle mode with the others and trundling toward the command deck.

* * *

It turned out the Decepticons were attacking another energy research facility.

Clearly, one of their more regular sources of energon had dried up for them to be searching this hard for large or long lasting sources of fuel.

The Autobots managed to fight them back, the newest recruits getting their first taste of frontline action on earth.

Bumblebee didn't even pay Hot Rod an iota of attention on the field, far too focussed on making sure they drove the Decepticons away from Human populated areas.

Thankfully, the facility under attack was situated on acreage with nothing but industrial buildings nearby.

The spy went after Soundwave with Jazz and Mirage, aiming to disable the producer of the energon containment cubes.

He came across Rumble, who seemed exceptionally wary of him, especially when the minibot gave him his biggest, most dangerous smile.

After dodging each other's rifle fire, the two became ensconced in other battles, and that was the last Bumblebee saw of the cassetticon.

He found himself slightly disappointed, rather keen to hide the damage of his earlier punch of the wall by pounding some frustration out on a 'Con.

And damnit but punching Rumble was exceptionally satisfying, mostly because it wiped that persistent cocky smirk off his faceplate.

There was a volley of seeker fire, and Bumblebee ducked behind a slew of boulders. When he looked up, there was an incredible moment in the clearing dust… all Decepticons and Autobots were engaged in their own battles, and a perfect opening presented itself to him, all the way to Soundwave.

Bumblebee didn't think twice.

He vaulted the boulders and transformed, gunning his engine hard in the direction of the communications specialist.

Dodging another strafe of aerial laser fire, he transformed to root mode, snatching his blaster up from subspace and pelting towards his target.

Ravage leapt out of nowhere on his right, but Bumblebee was in a state of battle clarity, and he reacted without pause, vaulting the cassetti-cat's lunge, kicking off of his back and shooting down at him, break-falling as he landed.

He looked up again, assessing his target as he closed in.

Soundwave turned at the sound of Ravage's indignant yowl, and his visor brightened in surprise to find the Autobot spy right at his pedes.

Bumblebee stood, blaster up, gave the communications specialist a small smile, and shot him square in the chest plates, and then in the face.

The blue and white mech reeled back with an audio piercing burst of feedback.

Bumblebee looked around, intent on getting the frag away from the mech before he retaliated… only to find he was behind enemy lines, and consequently surrounded by Decepticons on all sides.

His moment of clarity turned to a moment of tank-churning dread.

"Slaaaaaag."

Bumblebee's wheels hit the ground spinning as he transformed, swearing loudly as laser fire erupted in his direction from all sides.

Several shots grazed his plating, but by some stroke of luck, none managed to land a critical hit.

The hail of fire around him thinned as he sped back towards Autobot lines, Jazz and Mirage both giving him wide optic'd looks as they covered his retreat.

He transformed and vaulted behind the cover they were using, vents and engine heaving. He'd redlined it the whole way back.

"You turnin' into the twins now Bee? Ya nearly gave me a spark attack, thought you were suicidal drivin' straight into the middle of the 'Cons like that."

"Uhh… I only saw an opening and took it. I didn't really check to see where I was taking myself… Got Soundwave though didn't I?" Bumblebee replied with a shrug.

"You realise mechs are going to be talking about that little stunt for VORNS." Mirage supplied mildly from his other side, deftly sniping at the Seekers as they came in to strafe low.

"Damnit, they always do that just when I get a clear shot!"

"Huh? What, who?" the minibot, recovering himself, flipped onto his front and peeked over the edge of the boulders.

"Those hellions, who else?" Mirage huffed sourly, pointing at the Seekers overhead.

The Twins had used the trine's low altitude run to execute some Jet Judo.

Bumblebee watched them a moment as Sideswipe sent Starscream into a massive spin. Sunstreaker had mounted Skywarp, and he looked like he was attempting actual mid-air Judo, wrestling with the black and silver fuselage.

Bumblebee couldn't watch for long though, having to bring his blaster to bear again as the Reflector trio stormed their cover.

Even after they dispatched with all three of the surveillance team, they were forced back into better cover with the snipers, their own rocks now too blown to bits to offer much protection.

"Hey Bee, I know you have a lot of faith in my ability to watch your back out there, but SERIOUSLY? You nearly gave me a spark attack!" Bluestreak called out to his friend as he let off a volley of shots, optics not leaving his rifle's sights.

"Sorry Blue, you know I like to keep you on your stabilisers. You can join the spark attack club with Jazz though." the spy replied apologetically, trying to make light of the situation… mostly to make himself feel a little less terrified by his own recklessness.

He peeked over their new cover to assess the state of the battle.

The next thing he knew though, he was tackled by something very pink.

"Bumblebee! Are you CRAZY! I haven't seen you in how many vorns and you go and try to Kamikaze yourself!"

Bumblebee just lay there in mild shock as _kisses_ were rained down on his helm and face.

He was _completely_ confused about what the pit was happening until a crucial little fact clicked back into place in his processor and he realised who it was.

"Astra!"

She pulled back with a saucy smirk and a wink. "One and only. Except it's Arcee now sweetspark."

"Yeah, Jazz told me… sorry, I just blanked out for a nano."

"Looks like you've been blanking out a LOT. Didn't say Hi, didn't look before running into enemy lines, didn't recognise your favourite femme. You too busy in that helm of yours Bee?"

She said playfully, knocking lightly on his helm.

Bumblebee grinned sheepishly.

"Hehn, yea, sorry about not saying Hi… I guess I'll have to explain later… right now though, uh… maybe we should shoot some more…"

"Oh yea" Arcee said mildly, rolling off him and lining up beside Bluestreak. "Come on Blue, bet I can hit more constructicons than you before this is over."

"Oh you are SO on." The gunner replied back eagerly.

Jazz sidled up to Bumblebee as the Spy righted himself.

"Ya might have two of the worst Ex's in the world, but she SO makes up for Ignitor at least, ya gotta admit. Not every mech gets a femme who misses them enough to jump on 'em and kiss 'em silly in the middle of a Firefight."

Bumblebee gave him a sheepish grin.

"Had to luck out somewhere I guess."

* * *

It wasn't long before the battle became the Autobots shooting at the retreating backs of the Decepticons, who's raid had not been very successful. Soundwave getting shot had certainly put a wrench in their cogs too, and Astrotrain was seen collecting the unconscious tape deck as the retreat was called.

Bumblebee was now up on a small hill with Wheeljack, the engineer having called for his help to reload his inhibitor shells.

"Well, that was a nice change compared to the last fight. You've come away with all your limbs AND bonus kisses."

The Lancia teased his friend with a sly look of amusement.

"Didn't think you were the jealous type 'Jack." Bumblebee countered with a small smirk.

The sound of heavy pedefalls behind them had both looking around with slight surprise.

"You might have come away with all your limbs, but the 'Cons didn't. Got you a present Bee."

Sunstreaker grunted, limping only slightly as he deposited a purple, black and silver arm at the Spy's pedes.

The minibot stared at it for a few moments, mouth slightly agape.

"Is that… SKYWARP'S arm?"

"Figured he owed you since he's the one that shot the bomb." The golden mech shrugged, feral smirk on his faceplates.

Even with that slightly battle crazed glint to his optics and the scuffs and dents from combat, Sunstreaker was impressively handsome in his pride.

"Ow… I think I'm gonna need you to knock a few dents outta me Wheeljack." Sideswipe drawled as he trudged up to stand beside his brother.

"Heh, nice try Sideswipe. You hide in my lab to avoid Ratchet and he gets mad at ME, I'm not falling for that one again." The Engineer said wryly.

The red twin pouted and slumped dramatically against Sunstreaker, who growled lightly at him out of habit.

"Awwwww but he's only mad at me because I wound Hot Rod up to distract him and Prowl so Sunny could sneak into Prowl's office. Technically I didn't do anything to him! If anyone has a right to be mad it's Hot Rod. Hehn, he's an OK kinda mech actually."

Bumblebee couldn't stop the small derisive noise before it left his vocaliser.

"When he's not harrassing minibots and getting his aft handed to him that is." Sunstreaker added with a snicker, sharing a heated look with Bumblebee and revving his engine slightly.

"Hey, I know that look… you do that before you pounce Blue in public, you might have a thing for exhibitionism, but you're not doing that with HIM in MY presence, got it?" the Lancia pointed at the spy and the frontliner in turn.

Sideswipe cracked up laughing, and Sunstreaker snorted. "Don't worry Wheeljack, I'll keep it to office desks and corridors. Don't really want dirt and dust getting in my equipment, it's a pain to clean out."

"Oh Primus… I really don't want to know how you know that." The engineer put a servo over his faceplate, shaking it slightly, and even Bumblebee couldn't help but snicker, patting his friend on the shoulder in consolation.

"So hey… what was with the femme pouncing you in the middle of a shoot out Bee?" Sideswipe asked once he was composed again, leaning forward and picking up Skywarp's arm, messing with the mechanisms and waving it around a little.

Bumblebee gave him a slightly disturbed look.

"You know that's kind of creepy? It's still leaking energon. And she's a really old friend from way back. I wasn't even sure she was alive when we left Cybertron."

"Speak of the devil…" Wheeljack murmured in a voice of barely suppressed interest.

The minibot heard the sound of light pedes and turned in time to catch the pink frame that bowled into him in a hug.

"NOOOOW it's time for a proper greeting!" She practically sang, spinning around with Bee in her arms, lifting him off the ground.

"Hah! When did you get into the taller frame? This is gonna take some getting used to Starlight." Bumblebee was genuinely happy to finally get a chance to greet his first ex. She beamed when he used his old nickname for her.

"So you guys are old friends huh?" Sideswipe chimed, waving the dismembered arm in greeting.

Arcee let Bumblebee down and pulled a face at Sideswipe. "Is that a seeker's arm?"

Sideswipe's grin only grew wider. "Present for Bumblebee. Not that he needs it now he's got his own arm rebuilt, but it's the thought that counts. Anyway, Sunny gave it to him, not me." He jabbed a thumb at his twin.

Sunstreaker was standing with his arms crossed and an appraising, bemused look on his faceplates as he looked the femme over.

To her credit, Arcee seemed so used to getting ogled every which way by curious mechs that she didn't even bat a shutter at the golden warrior's demeanour.

"Oh, well, I guess that's fair… wait, you lost an arm?"

Bumblebee held up the rebuilt appendage and wiggled his digits. "Yea, but Wheeljack, Ratch and Perceptor just finished building my new one and stuck it on today. Good as new."

"You make it sound like it was a walk in the park." Wheeljack said with wry amusement.

"Well, compared to the rest of his repairs it WAS wasn't it?" Sideswipe countered, seeing how far he could bend the elbow joint of Skywarp's arm before it started buckling.

"Rest of his repairs? Bee, what EXACTLY happened to you?" Arcee's teasing good nature now had a serious concerned edge.

"I kind of… umm… well…"

"He got blown up. A bit. And nearly died. A little." Sunstreaker provided nonchalantly, arching an optical ridge at the minibot when he scowled at him.

"Reeeally subtle Streaker." Wheeljack nodded, crossing his arms.

"…Let me guess, it was Skywarp's fault that he got blown up?" The pink femme said with a shrewd look at the arm Sideswipe was making do rude servo gestures.

The red twin grinned at her. "However did you guess? Oh hey, look what happens when I pull these wires in the shoulder…" He tweaked them, the whole arm going straight and stiff, servo forming a fist.

"Ok, that is OFFICIALLY too creepy now, put the thing down already." Bumblebee grimaced at it.

"Nah, I think I'll keep it. Mount it on a board and stick in in the common room over the TV or something. Heheh, or use it to servo wrestle a couple mechs first." He tried to punch his brother with the stiff, fisted, dismembered arm, but Sunstreaker scowled and swatted it out of his hands, making him pout.

"No, don't ruin the place with that ugly thing, if Bee doesn't want it, give it to Ratchet for melting down or something, Hoist could probably do with some spare scrap for projects." the golden mech replied.

"Actually, I could use it NOT melted down to take data for weapon specs." Wheeljack piped up enthusiastically.

Sideswipe shrugged and tossed him the arm. "Fair enough, anything that frags off the seekers more is good with me."

"Ahhhh, you two might want to find an excuse to excuse yourselves. Prowl is incoming." Wheeljack said in a low key tone, trying to make it look like he wasn't warning them.

Bumblebee turned and instantly noted the angle of Prowl's door wings.

It was probably safe to say he was PISSED.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker didn't even pretend like they didn't see him, simply changing down into their alt modes and taking off with enough wheel spin that all present got a decent coating of dust in the wake of their departure.

"Gee, you're WELCOME. So much for subtlety." Wheeljack called out, slightly disgruntled.

Arcee laughed and slung her arms over the engineer and minibot's shoulders.

"I think I'm going to like it here. Those two remind me of Hot Rod. Speaking of which, I should introduce you guys properly, where is he…"

"Uuuuh it's OK. We've met." Bumblebee said with a forced smile.  
"Really? Oh, I didn't think you would have, since you and I didn't get a chance until now." the pink femme pouted slightly, oblivious to Wheeljack's gleefully glowing helm fins due to her touching him.

"Oh, no, I mean I met him before the war. I've only had… very brief contact with him since he's arrived." Bumblebee amended, still trying not to sound bitter.

"Primus, before the war? You mean when he was even YOUNGER? Was he even more immature then, hah, is that even possible?" Arcee snickered, but her teasing was clearly in a fond way.

It was obvious to Bumblebee that she hadn't been burnt by him… yet.

She might have been smart enough not to fall for his act.

"Actually, yes. I can pretty safely say he WAS."

The spy couldn't help the edge to his voice, and he could see Arcee had picked up on it.

Just as she opened her mouth to ask about it, a loud, gruff voice called her from across the field.

"Darn it, I better go. Springer's pretty impatient… I'll catch you guys later at the party or something if we don't get time before then, OK?"

Bumblebee and Wheeljack nodded, the beetle grinning when she kissed him on the cheek, Wheeljack's helm fins flashing an alarmed pink when she did the same for him before trotting off in the direction of the green triple changer.

It seemed Prowl was now distracted by Springer as well, who was having what looked like an argument with him. Bluestreak was standing beside them looking a little uncomfortable and out of place.

"Huh. Wonder what the deal is?" the minibot mused curiously.

"Hehn. Springer is makin' Prowl's bad mood worse by questioning his tactics." Jazz explained, coming up the hill behind them to stand beside a still distracted looking Wheeljack.

"Questioning PROWL'S tactics? On WHAT? And why's he got the snipers involved?" Bumblebee asked, slightly incredulous.

"Oh, Springers got some ideas about how snipers should be positioned and used during battle, and they completely contradict Prowl's attack layouts. Springer's a hard head, and Prowl doesn't budge when he's sure he's got it right, so this could take a while unless Prime breaks it up. Personally, Prowl's way works for our situation, and Springer mighta held his turf back on Cybertron, but this is a totally different scene, and I don't think it's a great time to start rufflin' armour over how things are done." The saboteur said mildly.

"Plus picking a time when he's already angry with Sunstreaker is just playing with fire." the beetle added, crossing his arms and looking back down at the scene with a slight frown.

The earth contingent of Autobots had grown to be extremely tight-knit.

The spy knew any mech coming in from Cybertron and trying to encroach on the way they operated would not be taken well by ANYONE.

He wondered briefly if Springer knew how much of an aft it made him look to do so.

"She's even prettier than I thought she'd be." Wheeljack said with a sigh through his vents.

Bumblebee and Jazz turned to look at him with surprise and slight confusion, which quickly morphed into amusement.

"'Jack my mech, you got it bad dontcha?" Jazz snickered, elbowing the Lancia when he didn't get a response.

"Huh? You say something Jazz?" Wheeljack turned to focus on the saboteur vaguely.

The Porsche and Beetle snickered at him, and Wheeljack frowned.

"What? What did I do?"

"'Jack, I don't BELIEVE you've got the hots for my ex. I thought you were into… you know… wrench throwers and test tube huggers." Bumblebee said, barely able to hold back the giggles.

The engineer scoffed.

"I AM into those, but I told you before, I'm a great appreciator of the feminine frame and processor. Plus… I dunno, she's just… she's… frag me, I can't even describe it, she just breezes along and charms your spark."

"One, I already did frag you. Two, I'm well aware of her affects on the spark. But don't go mistaking her friendliness for a come-on, that's just how she is. If you wanna actually GET with her, just be blunt. That's how she likes to handle relationships. No beating around the crystal outcrop." The minibot explained sagely.

"Pfff, she seems more like she wants to frag YOU again than me. Maybe you could put a good word in for me though? I mean, I DID make you electronic instruments and a new arm, soooo"

"Oh come off it 'Jack, I'd put in the good word even if you hadn't done that stuff for me. I'll see what she thinks of you and get back to you on whether you should just ask her or court her a bit first. I mean it's been a loooong time since I've seen her, she may have changed her… preferences when it comes to relationships, I don't know."

Bumblebee shrugged.

"Y'could always just ask her if she wants to see your special new project, y'know… private viewing in your lab, something along those lines…" Jazz smirked.

Wheeljack gave him a shrewd look.

"I might be a 'nerdbot' as I know we're referred to by the rest of the crew, but I'm not THAT tacky Jazz. Besides, that line never worked on Ratchet OR Perceptor."

Bumblebee and Jazz both chuckled, and the three of them transformed and headed back towards the Ark as Prime broke up the argument on the field and called for them to roll out.

* * *

"SERIOUSLY… does he do that on a battle to battle basis?"

"Well, not really Hot Rod, but he IS espionage, so it's kinda his job to get behind enemy lines and… y'know… sabotage their attack. He and Mirage do specialise is single mech take-out. Don't get me wrong, we're ALL pretty fraggin' impressed with him getting right up to Soundwave like that and just SHOOTING him… that's like… it doesn't really happen in battle, old Megs keeps his best officer pretty well protected. Bee was just in the zone I guess, had his arm back and everything."

Hound explained with a shrug and an amicable smile, swilling the contents of his cube a little.

"Had his arm back? When did he lose it? And how?" The flame painted mech asked curiously, leaning on the table with his own barely touched cube in servo.

He hadn't told a spark about his encounter with his ex, and apparently neither had Bumblebee, because he hadn't gotten any comments or reactions from anyone but the two bots who had witnessed some of the smack down.

Hound's expression grew a little less chipper, as if remembering the incident disturbed him.

For most bots, losing an arm was more of an inconvenience than anything serious, unless their energon lines didn't self seal.

The fact the scout reacted like he did told Hot Rod immediately it wasn't just a case of losing a single limb in battle.

"Well, we do a lot of chasing the 'Cons around here. Mostly because they're off trying to steal energon or technology to increase their energon production. In this case, they were trying to blow up an experimental reactor, so they could absorb the blast energy.

Bee had to get into the building and disarm the bomb but uh… Skywarp spotted him and blew the bomb prematurely. Bee used himself as a shield to protect the humans in the room instead of just diving for cover, he nearly died as a result. Went into spark arrest a couple times. Just thinking about it reminds me how lucky we are he's still around."

Hot Rod sat in a state of stunned silence as he processed the information.

He would have thought the tracker was having him on, but Hound hadn't so far struck him as a kidder when it came to serious topics.

That meant, however, that he had been seriously underestimating his old lover.

Odd enough he should do something as bad-aft as drive right up to the Decepticon TIC in battle and shoot him in the face, but to risk his spark for humans?

Was this the same Bumblebee he knew?

Then again, to be fair, he didn't know Bee THAT well… he knew how he liked to interface, but beyond that? Well… he'd never thought the minibot was of much interest beyond that.

Hot Rod certainly found him interesting NOW.

"Soooo I'm guessing it's not the first time he's gotten into trouble though right? Since he's espionage."

"Oh yea, he's gotten in some real pickles before, trust me! I mean, it's no surprise he took the chance to pay Soundwave back when he got it. That bot and all his cassettes are the biggest grief to our espionage agents."

"You sure it's them that are the biggest problem? I'd say the Seekers are right up there on our saboteurs blacklist." Inferno chimed in, sitting beside Hound.

"Guess so with them being the reason Bee nearly offlined." Hot Rod nodded, taking a sip of his cube.

The wry half-grin and glint to Inferno's optics belied that that wasn't his train of thought exactly.

"Weeeell, yea, that's the worst one. But they've done OTHER things indirectly recently to _frag_ them off as well."

"'Ferno, really?" Hound murmured, giving his friend a slightly disapproving look.

"Awww c'mon Hound, they're gonna hear about it sooner or later anyway. I know YOU won't give any dirt on the matter, but I can share the general conjecture with him can't I?" The Firetruck gave him an innocent look.

The tracker sighed and shook his helm. "Yea, I guess you have a point, but count me out, I don't need to get on black ops bad side, you can do that all on your own."

"Am I… missing something here?" Hot Rod asked shrewdly, cocking an orbital ridge in curious confusion.

"Boy, did you EVER miss somethin'!" Inferno's grin became full on slag-eating, peaking the flame painted mech's curiosity even further.

Infero leant forward, in full story-telling mode, Hot Rod unconsciously mirroring him a little.

"OK, so, Bee goes on intel missions of course. Usually he had to do it when we were sure Soundwaves symbiotes weren't capable of patrolling the Nemesis' vents. After the last mission though, it turns out the box-bot sussed our ruse, and Bee ended up having to run from the cassettes and get out before he was captured. Except Ravage caught up and they ended up in the Seekers quarters. Now, I don't know if you're old enough to remember cones, are you?"

Hot Rod made on optic rolling motion with his helm.

"I'm not THAT young. 'Course I know what those are."

"Right, so you know how Seekers had stronger ones cuz of how their frame types work… Bee landed on a pile on ol' 'Warps berth. Got shot up with Seeker aphrodisiac. Even ONE cone woulda been an overdose for a mini, and he got hit with TWO."

Inferno chuckled at Hot Rod's wide optic'd, slack jawed expression.

" _Seriously?…_ What did that DO to him?"

"Well, overheated the slag out of his systems, but when he got back to base courtesy of his backup, which by the way was Hound and Mirage, that's where details get a little _hazy._ "

"Don't gimmie that look Inferno, I'm not saying a WORD." Hound said evenly, not looking up from his cube as he drank.

"Hehn. Well, anyway. So, these Seeker aphro's are the kind that duplicate into other mech's systems when you _plug in,_ if you know what I'm saying. And _somehow,_ Bee gets out of the Medbay and the aphro code starts spreading around the crew. The whole thing is known here as 'the Fragging Incident'.

What none of us know, not even my good buddy Hound here, is WHO Bumblebee ran off and infected. We've all been arguing' ever since about who our little yellow spy has the revs for."

Inferno grinned and swilled his cube.

"Sooooo… what's the popular consensus then, on who he's banging bumpers with?"

"Twins" Hound piped up with an amused little grin. "Well… that one was doing the rounds BEFORE the fragging incident, so I don't mind saying it. Personally, I think the Twins are just messing with him 'cause they like to frag off the minis. They pretty much tailor their torture methods to every individual. And since Bee is the least promiscuous bot on crew, figures they'd pick on that point to tease him."

"Wait… are we talking about those two frontliners? The handsome one and the funny guy? You're kidding right? Why the slag would you suspect it to be them?" Hot Rod asked dubiously.

"Well, see, I don't think it's the Twins mostly cuz everyone knows they're sweet on Bluestreak. That's not to say they don't randomly berth other mechs for whatever reason, Blue doesn't mind that so much since they're so adamant about him being theirs. Personally, I think Bee mighta hit up Bluestreak or Wheeljack. He's close to 'em both, and neither would ever SAY that he'd done it." Inferno answered sagely.

"And that'd be because it's technically not any of our business. I'm just disappointed Mirage got in on the action and I didn't. A good time was had by all infectees except Bumblebee… since the overdose fried a load of his circuitry, but it wasn't NEARLY as bad as the bomb damage." Hound sighed, finishing his cube. "Still, surprised me the little guy actually WENT for anyone at all. He's not exactly known for getting around. I kinda figured he just wasn't a mech who wanted to 'face much."

Hot Rod made a little scoffing sound, which had the other mechs give him curious looks.

"Well… I don't know what he's been like while he's been on the Ark, but I can tell you now, the bot CERTAINLY has an interface drive."

The stunned looks he got in return made him grin and sip his cube.

"OK, c'mon, SPILL. How exactly do YOU know that?" Inferno asked a little shrewdly, leaning forward even further on the table.

The flame painted mech's cheshire grin only grew wider.

"Weeeeell I mighta known him before the war. I mighta also had a FLING with him. And I miiiiight just have 'faced his bolts off."

Inferno and Hound shared a disbelieving look.

But before either of them could ask for details, an announcement over the intercom called for Hot Rod to report to Springer on the command deck.

"You are SO going into details next time I catch you mech." Inferno said as the bot gave him another smug grin, waving as he drained the rest of his cube and chucked it in the recycler on the way out.

"Think he was for real?" the Firetruck asked his companion.

Hound frowned thoughtfully. "Well, whether he is or he isn't… I'm not sure Bee would be so happy with him shooting his mouth off about it."

* * *

As it was, Bumblebee had ended up going to his room and recharging heavily after a check-up and hearty scolding from Ratchet.

He was disappointed to have no time with Prowl or Jazz, but the Saboteur had sent him an apology comm explaining they were completely caught up in heavy debriefings thanks to Springer kicking up such a fuss about protocol indescrepencies (or so he saw them), which of course had riled Prowl, the epitome of doing things by the book, so that a long meeting to re-establish the status quo was inevitable.

Bee had decided to just go to his room and drop.

It wasn't until he actually did that he realised how tired he was.

It had been one slag of a long day after all, now he thought about it. It seemed like that morning had been yesterday, but time confusion was always a problem for most cybertronians on earth as it was. Human time and the cycles of day and night in essence didn't mean much to his kind. Everything went so fast. Bumblebee often found himself awake for two days straight anyway, as that was more approximate to a cybertronian 'day'.

Either way, he'd managed to pack rather a lot into 24 hours, and he recharged in merciful, memory-purge-free stasis for a solid few cycles.

Consequently, his sharp, espionage senses were not as alert as usual. He did not detect his uninvited visitors in the middle of the off-cycle.

When he came out of recharge however…

Bumblebee booted up cleanly, feeling quite refreshed after deep defrag.

He stretched out on his berth with a gentle rev and moved to sit up, swinging his legs over the edge of the berth.

He heard a soft tinkling noise, but looking around, couldn't see anything that had dropped. Assuming it must have been a piece of scrap on his berth or debris he'd picked up yesterday falling off or out of his frame, he gave it no more thought and went about his on-shift routine.

He had monitor duty with Blaster in a cycle and headed off to get himself some energon, intending to get in a quick clean in the wash racks after his cube.

He noticed pretty quickly as he walked down the halls that something was off.

He greeted the few mechs he saw, all of whom gave him very… surprised, and even slightly scandalised or amused looks.

_Oh Primus… what is it, what do they know? SLAG… I bet HotRod has started telling bots what we used to do together… I am going to KILL that mech when I see him._

Bumblebee's good mood quickly turned sour, and he stalked the rest of the way to the common room, thinking of all the things he could do to the mech in question and how much trouble he'd get in for doing it.

When he reached the common room, it was much emptier than he'd expected.

This wasn't really a bad thing, but to his disappointment, the flame painted mech was not one of the few occupants.

Blaster however, was. The beetle grabbed his cube and went over to the cassette deck's table at his beckoning.

Before the spy could open his mouth to ask if the communications specialist knew exactly what dirt was being spread about him, the grinning mech spoke up.

"Nice jewellery you got there Bee. I know bots joke about you being the Humans pet, but I never figured you took it so seriously."

Bumblebee's whole train of thought was brought up short by the comment, and he sat with a completely perplexed expression.

Blaster, grinning from audio to audio, pointed at the minibot's chassis.

Bumblebee frowned slightly and looked down, but he couldn't see anything.

"'Round ya neck, mech." He chuckled.

Bumblebee brought a servo up and gasped as the tinkling sound returned, thin metal hitting his digits. He didn't even feel the lightweight band around his neck with it's little metal disk.

Disk? Human Pet?…

How the SLAG had a COLLAR gotten on him?

"Did I get slag-faced in the middle of my recharge and go to some outrageous party that's been wiped from my memory banks or something?" The spy mused, tugging on the thing. It seemed to be made of a light material, and since tugging it revealed it had little give, he guessed titanium.

Well, that was certainly not a cheap metal on earth, but it WAS one of the more popular metals for jewellery on Cybertron.

"Ah frag, THIS is what those looks were for. And I thought there were rumours flying around."

"Well, there ARE, and bots probably think that has somethin' to do with them. C'mere a nano, there's writing, I'll read it for ya."

The tape deck took pity on Bumblebee, and the beetle slipped from his seat and slouched over to the red and yellow bot to have his tag read.

"Well I'll be, this ain't so surprising. Apparently, you are now 'Property of Sunstreaker' accordin' to this."

"What?… How the flaming pit did he get this on me without me knowing?"

"Not sure Beeper, but he didn't do a bad job. Ain't no clasp on it, welded right around ya neck. Gonna hafta see Ratch or Jack to cut it off I think."

Bumblebee slouched back into his seat and took a long draught from his cube. He thunked his helm somewhat melodramatically on the table with an expansive ex-vent.

"I know about the rumours by the way, I just thought more had gotten out or something. Well… now more WILL, but thankfully not the sort I thought."

"Aww, don't wear your gears down over it Bee, it'll all blow over eventually. Twins'll lose interest in you as soon as a more inviting target presents itself. And since we got new mechs along, that will probably be soon. Although… I am kinda curious to know what rumours exactly you seemed to think had been spread more recently. Would it have something' to do with that little tidbit popping up on the grapevine about HotRod and you pre-war?"

Bumblebee looked up slowly and gave Blaster such an in tense look that the boom box unconsciously leaned away from his company.

"Uuuh… forget I said anything… although, given that look, I'm guessing there's a whole other story behind that one…"

" _Who,_ has said _what_?" Bumblebee's voice was low, calm, and clear.

Blaster was forcefully reminded that he was dealing with one of the best espionage agents in the Autobot army. And given he was in comms, it was all too easy to spill his cogs.

"Apparently he… um, alluded to… _something_ between you two. Accordin' to Inferno, he says he fragged your bolts off. But hey, most bots here already got his measure, If he's just blowin' smoke-"

"Whatever he's blowing, I'm going to force-feed back into his systems _backwards._ " The minibot's tone was still soft and crystal clear.

"Bee mech, calm, ya scarin' me here. I'm guessing, wild as this guess may be, that you don't like Hot Rod so much. Don't let him get to ya. So what if you DID 'face him a couple thousand vorn ago? No bot here's really gonna care whatcha did in ya younger joors." The tape deck tried to placate the riled spy, but Bumblebee's optics flashed a cold blue.

"Blaster, you know just as well as I do that bots on the Ark think I don't HAVE an Interface drive. I don't care how long ago it was, if there's a mech around who wants to bandy about tales of being in the berth with me, the crew will eat it up. No matter how much is or isn't true."

There was a heavy pause as Bumblebee stewed and stiffy drank the rest of his cube.

Blaster broke it tentatively with the most innocent expression he could muster.

"Sssssoooo… is any part of it in any way _true?"_

The yellow mech looked up with a slightly incredulous expression, the coldness of his temper faded slightly. He shuttered his optics and sighed through his vents.

"Well, my reaction makes it kinda obvious I suppose. But I'd very much appreciate it if you could help nullify whatever claims he makes. Yes… ok, I've 'faced him before. I'M not going into detail. If he starts to, I'll be looking to get permission from Ratchet to castrate him."

Blaster snorted and tried to stifle a chuckle.

"OK, I'm sorry Bee, but just… the image of you castrating anyone is… pffff-" He broke into giggles, the beetle watching coolly as the red and yellow mech tried to master himself.

"Uh-huh… I could do it in his recharge you know. He wouldn't even realise it was all missing until he opened his panel and LOOKED." Bumblebee said nonchalantly, throwing back the last of his cube and getting up to put the empty container in the recycling.

"Damn Bee… I love ya an' all… but you scare the slag outta me sometimes." Blaster managed to get out as he quieted himself to snickers.

"What, and Jazz and Mirage don't?"

"Yea, 'course they do. But ya kinda expect them to be a bit scary. They act the part, y'know? You.. You're about as innocent as it gets until you come out with threats of bodily harm, and even then ya do it with the same 'wouldn't hurt a glitch-mouse' attitude. Jazz DOES always say ya gotta watch the quiet ones. Guess he's talkin' about you."

"Jazz is certainly known for his good advice." Bumblebee smirked. It WOULD be like Jazz to allude to his professional side without bots knowing they really should take it seriously.

The saboteur loved all that half-open truth stuff. Letting slip interesting insights in a way that most mechs wouldn't even catch.

"Hmmm, ahm, headin' to the surveillance hub. Comin' with or ya got something' to do before shift?" Blaster got up and stretched, throwing his cube like a basketball and cursing slightly when it bounced off the rim of the recycling bin.

"Was going to drop by the wash racks for a quick hose-down first. I'll see you there." the beetle replied, heading for the door and throwing back a wave. "Oh and thanks for the heads up on my 'jewellery'. Might be late if I can find a bot with a laser cutter to get this thing off for me."

"No problem Bee, ya seat will be waiting for you in the hub when you get there." Blaster snickered as he went to retrieve his cube and throw it out properly.

* * *

Bumblebee wandered down the hall, seeing a few more mechs and repeating the phrase 'twin prank' to whoever gave him quizzical looks. Unfortunately no one he passed had appropriate tools to help him get it off.

When he reached the wash racks, they were thankfully as empty as he had expected, most bots going to or already at their morning shifts, the night crew usually foregoing a wash to get some recharge first.

He settled in a favourite stall in the corner, turning the water on hard to get all the grime out of his joints. He slumped and his engine purred, warm liquid infusing heat into his joints, the patter over his plating like a massage to his sensory array.

Bumblebee just stood in the spray, enjoying the time to relax.

Given his cycles of deep recharge, he was finally feeling somewhat refreshed, his normal special ops sensitivities back to perfect working order.

Which was why the sound of metal brushing tile made him turn his helm sharply, optics alighting on a broadly grinning Sunstreaker.

To his Alarm, the large gold mech had gotten halfway across the room without him noticing.

Bumblebee frowned and turned a cool, aloof look on the twin.

"Fragging me on the SIC's desk is one thing, but a collar? Really? PLEASE don't tell me the next step is a leash."

A black and red figure bounced through the door behind the tall, grinning golden warrior.

Sideswipe closed the door behind him and fiddled with the door pad.

Bumblebee suddenly realised he'd been trapped, and ridiculously easily at that.

"Awww, you read our minds! Although we didn't plan on using the leash to drag you around by, it was more to keep your servos out of the way…" the red mech grinned, jauntily strolling up to his brother as they both advanced on the yellow mech's corner.

Bumblebee wondered for a moment if he should try and fight his way out… but looking into their optics, he recognised the intent, and deciding it would just cause unnecessary irritation, gave in to their intentions with a resigned sigh.

"You guys know I have a shift in about three breems right? Whatever you wanna do, make it quick."

"Awww, giving in that easy? I thought we'd get SOME token resistance at least" Sideswipe pouted as he and Sunstreaker flanked the minibot under his spigot.

"Not worth the time it would waste. You guys gotten your chewing out from Prowl yet?" The spy's tone was nonchalant, conversational, and rather comical given the situation.

He let the frontliners press him against the wall, Sideswipe pulling a long, thick piece of leather… an actual leash (and he didn't want to know where they had even gotten one of that size) out of his subspace to tie the minibot's servos together in front of him.

"Ha, nope. He's waaay too busy sorting out Springer and his 'rock the boat' attitude to be bothered punishing us." Sideswipe snickered.

Meanwhile Sunstreaker reached up and removed the spigot from it's bracket, spraying the smaller bot down as if he were just helping him shower.

Bumblebee shivered as he started putting the pieces together, speculating on the twin's plan.

"Don't worry, we'll get you to work on time." the crested mech purred, angling the water away from the spy as Sideswipe slid behind Bumblebee, sitting in the corner of the shower recess and dragging Bee down to sit between his legs.

Sideswipe used his long stabilising servos to hook around the inside of Bumblebee's own, effectively forcing his legs open and keeping them spread.

At the same time, he fiddled with the end of the leather leash, tying it to the collar so Bumblebee couldn't use his servos to touch them OR himself.

The beetle found himself already over-warm and ventilating a little harder than normal.

Standing above him, Sunstreaker had on a positively wicked expression as he fiddled with the stream settings on the spigot nozzle.

Bumblebee jumped slightly and squirmed when Sideswipe's servos snaked around his hips and stroked his panel.

He cried out rather loudly when a hard stream of water was suddenly directed at his codpiece as well, and he bucked back against the red twin with a keen.

A moment later the water was directed away again, leaving the minibot panting and squirming.

"You… you are both… utter slagging _bastards_ …"

"Tisk tisk, resorting to human slang Bee? I didn't think you were that kinda bot. Gonna have to punish you for that one." Sunstreaker murmured hotly, nodding to his brother.

The black servos hovering around the edges of Bumblebee's panel sought the manual release latch and pushed back the metal cover, revealing the now familiar set of equipment.

The beetle's optics widened as he realised what they were doing a moment before it happened.

"Wait noooo, no no no no no n-no-ooOOOOO!"

Sunstreaker aimed the hard, narrow stream of water right at his equipment, making Bumblebee arch, squeal and buck, unable to escape the intense sensation exploding through his sensors from the high velocity impact of water against them.

Revving with arousal at the sight, Sunstreaker moved the water in a figure eight on the minibot's bared interface, Sideswipe clamping a servo over Bumblebee's mouth so his wanton cries didn't attract unwanted attention.

After half a klik, Sunstreaker relented again, chuckling softly as the spy slumped against his brother, quivering.

Sideswipe removed his servo from the minibot's mouth to pet his helm gently.

The glint of water droplets off the spy's bright yellow and matte black paint, and the little swirls of steam where the dermal plating was heating with arousal was a sight Sunstreaker filed away in his 'things to draw later for private collection' headspace.

Sideswipe revved, reaching down to lightly toy with Bumblebee's spike housing, releasing the cable to start pressurising, which it did much more quickly than they expected.

It only made the scene more pleasing to the golden twin.

"You… you both… are evil… completely, and utterly… evil… you better be taking this… fragging collar off me after this…" Bumblebee murmured a little breathlessly, deeply blue optics fixed on Sunstreaker where he stood smirking.

"Mmmmmaybe we will… and maybe we won't… depends on how good you look while we water torture you." the crested mech said smoothly, directing the spray between the spy's legs again without warning, using his digits to break up the flow so the stimulation was staggered.

Sideswipe had to cover Bumblebee's mouth again to stifle the loud cries of pleasure, the minibot's spike jutting up temptingly, it's owner squealing every time the water hit it.

Sunstreaker crouched down, changing the angle of the spray, concentrating it on the minibot's valve and watching in fascinated arousal as it clenched and quivered at the water jet invading it.

Sideswipe, on a whim, used his free servo to grab Bumblebee's spike and stroke it firmly while Sunstreaker made the stream splash a staccato against the shuddering valve.

The yellow mech fairly screamed into his servo, arching and bucking hard against the red twin as he overloaded from the onslaught of intense sensation.

The twins revved as they watched Bumblebee ride out his charge release.

Sunstreaker directed the spray away again as Sideswipe gently stroked the minibot's spike to prolong his post overload buzz.

The spy moaned, slumping against Sideswipe, not fighting at all as the twins began to position him differently.

The red frontliner behind him released his legs from his own and wrapped a servo around the yellow chassis, using his other servo to get Bumblebee to straddle him before he opened his own panel.

The spy gasped as he felt Sideswipe's familiar spike pressurise against his valve, pressing up into him as it extended, making him moan breathily.

Sideswipe gripped the minibot's sides and leant him forward so he had a nice, direct angle to thrust at. If he let go though, Bumblebee would fall forward.

The yellow mech seemed fairly unconcerned about this, and looked up at Sunstreaker with bright, curious optics as the golden mech lowered himself to his front and grinned at him lasciviously.

Bumblebee squirmed slightly as Sideswipe lifted him bodily and pressed him back down on his still extending spike.

The spy grunted, valve clamping sporadically as he tried to relax it around the large girth of the frontliner's cable. The stretch was still as delicious as it ever was, and Bumblebee offlined his optics so he could just _feel._

He snapped them open again with a strangled cry however when something hot and moist engulfed his spike. He looked down with a whimper, finding that Sunstreaker had moved forward on his front to wrap his mouth around his spike.

"Oh Primus!…Ngghhh fraggit… why are you two so _good_ at thiiiis…" Bumblebee all but whimpered, moaning when Sideswipe thrust in a little more forcefully as Sunstreaker began bobbing his mouth over his spike.

The red twin's hub hit the smaller bot's socket, making him keen and buck. He didn't know whether he was bucking down on the spike or forward into Sunstreaker's mouth, but it didn't seem to make much difference.

The pace picked up fairly quickly, and Bumblebee knew he wouldn't last long between the revving, eager frontliners.

It was when Sideswipe plugged in and Sunstreaker turned the forgotten stream of water back on their joined equipment while sucking down the spy's spike that Bumblebee howled with pleasure.

Neither twin thought to stifle him, not really wanting to.

Sunstreaker moaned around the stiff cable as it buzzed hard with energy, and used the shower nozzle to spray rigorously around the minibot's filled valve and the base of his brother's spike.

Sideswipe cried out as well, bucking and grinding into the minibot as the overload was shared through the link and the hard water on their joined equipment intensified the release.

Bumblebee slumped in Sideswipe's hold as the red mech pulled him back against his chassis, but Sunstreaker didn't let his spike go.

The golden twin was still highly revved, not having overloaded with them, but definitely highly aroused by participating in bringing them about.

"NnnghSunnyyyyy!… My shift… Ah, I gotta… Mmmnnn gonna be laaaate".

"No, you won't be. I'm overriding your shift and allocating a replacement."

The cold, familiar vocals snapped the minibot and twins out of their lustful haze, Sideswipe squeaking and using Bumblebee as a shield, while Sunstreaker turned his helm with the tip of the spike still sucked into his mouth, optics wide and surprised.

Prowl stood just inside the door, Jazz peering around him.

They hadn't heard the saboteur hacking the lock, but that was why he was head of special ops.

Jazz wasn't really the focus of the three on the floor though.

The livid looking black and white Praxian was doing a very good job of holding their attention.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate heat, and he couldn't quite meet the unusually icy glare his lover was sending their way.

"S-sorry Prowl… sir, they kind of cornered me…" His excuse even sounded pathetic to him. The SIC didn't seem overly impressed either.

"The three of you, up, make yourselves presentable… release Bumblebee's servos and follow me to my office, I'll be waiting outside to escort you."

The minibot flinched slightly at the harsh tone, realising that Prowl was genuinely angry, and not just with the twins.

He threw Jazz an unsure look and got something of a shrug in return before the Porsche stepped outside with Prowl to wait for them.

"Damn… we might've pushed one button too many." Sunstreaker murmured after popping his mouth off Bumblebee's spike.

"Might be right, but he looked like that after we put pink bubble-bath in the shower water reservoir that one time… course it wasn't as intimidating while he was covered in energon coloured bubbles, but still." Sideswipe recounted mildly as he fiddled with the leash to free Bumblebee's servos, before helping him off his spike.

They couldn't help letting out little noises of pleasure as their nodes fired off from the movement, but they were sobered by the knowledge they were about to get chewed out verbally for a cycle or so.

Sunstreaker huffed as he helped Bumblebee to his pedes.

"At least you two got to get off. I'm going to be all revved up with no way to fix it while we get another super-lecture."

* * *

**Calm thoughts Prowler. I know ya all worked up, but ya supposed to be goin' off to relax and get some rest, not wind yourself up more with the twins.**

" **I _know_ that Jazz, but it's not just them. If not for Springer, I would already have given Bee a piece of my meta for what he did during that battle. Primus, my fragging spark nearly snuffed when I saw him going for Soundwave. He _can't_ keep taking risks like that, and before you say it, you know full well I'd take him up on it even if we weren't involved."**

The black and white mech ran a servo over his faceplate, pacing irately outside the wash racks.

He wasn't sure if he wished fate hadn't let him hear Bumblebee cry out on the way past the communal showers, or whether it was for the best.

Either way, he had to take all three mechs up on their various actions, and given how things had suddenly played out, now was apparently the time to do it.

" **Ah know Prowler. You don't do favouritism, s'why ya still Prime's right servo. But ah still say y'should keep your cool here… OK, the twins DO need punishment for what they've been up to the past few days. And I gotta admit, the collar prank thing is a bit much even to me."**

The saboteur put a servo on Prowl's shoulder to halt his pacing, rubbing gently to try and soothe his edgy temper.

Prowl gave a harsh sigh through his vents and flicked his door wings in agitation.

" **What am I going to DO with them Jazz? I know it's stupid to get this worked up but… damnit, I can't help it. I'm possessive. Even though I know it's just interface, I'm still… _frustrated_ by their gall, and they don't even know just how much they're rubbing it in our face-plates."**

Jazz was silent for a moment, visor flashing as he tilted his helm. Then a small grin started to spread across his faceplates.

" **Ya know what?… I just got an idea. And ah think it'll calm ya down AND get the twins back, AND give Bee a little bit of punishment, all at the same time."**

* * *

Bumblebee's faceplate burnt slightly with shame as he walked into Prowl's office behind the two frontliners.

The three of them stood in standard formation, at attention before Prowl's desk.

Jazz came in last, locking the door behind them and leaning against the wall beside the door, his expression unreadable.

Bumblebee realised by the treatment he was getting from his lovers that his being there was not just because of his fraternizing with the twins.

What he'd done wrong though, he wasn't sure.

Prowl paced slightly, wings still held high and stiff, flicking irately now and then as he seemingly mulled over his words carefully.

Eventually, in the stifling silence that not even the red and gold frontliners dared to break, he turned to face them, stance rigid and face set in a dark scowl.

"I am well used to behaviour unbecoming of mechs under Prime's command from the two of you." He snapped curtly at the twins.

Bumblebee forced himself to look up at the hard blue optics when Prowl turned to him.

"While I am aware you are not one to physically retaliate against others Bumblebee, I am also aware you ARE capable of holding your own if strictly necessary, against larger bots. And while I am disappointed you allowed these two to… _debaucher_ you in completely inappropriate places, that is not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Bumblebee didn't dare move a mechanism, feeling extremely awkward, standing at attention with his plating pinging as it cooled every now and then, collar still affixed around his neck.

Prowl's tone when he next spoke surprised the minibot though, morphing from cold disappointment to barely contained frustration.

"Bumblebee, what in Primus' name possessed you to take that run at Soundwave? You know full well what could have happened running behind enemy lines mid battle, apart from the possibility of capture, you could well have been seriously injured by friendly fire. I don't care HOW skilled you are, how fast you are, the next time you see an opening for a single bot to waltz up to a Decepticon lieutenant and shoot him in the face, do NOT take it. Instinct never got the better of you before, don't let it start happening now.

Battle tactics, guidelines, and regulations, are there for a reason, as I've been trying to stipulate to Springer for the last few cycles, is there for a REASON. I do NOT need our own troops undermining that with stunts like the one you pulled."

By the time Prowl had finished his rant, he was looming over Bumblebee, face rather closer than was comfortable given he was not about to kiss him.

"Now hold on just one nano…"

Prowl turned his iciest glare on Sideswipe when he spoke, but the red twin boldly went on, face pulled into a grimace.

"Sir, in all fairness, me and Sunny perform Jet Judo nearly every single chance we get, and that takes us behind enemy lines a lot of the time."

The Praxian straightened and flicked his wings, air of authority still firmly in place.

"There is a BIG difference between frontliner battle tactics and those in the espionage and sharp-shooting positions. You two are well out of the range of accurate shooting by either side, with Bluestreak as the exception, and you are both built to take rather a lot more direct hit damage.

Bumblebee knows he is not build for charging the enemy, nor engaging in hand-to-hand combat with several members of the enemy faction able to surround him and heavily armed. He was LUCKY no one got a critical hit on him. Luck is not enough here. Luck is not reliable in war."

Sunstreaker opened his mouth to protest, but Prowl revved and narrowed his gaze in warning.

"I will NOT hear any more argument on this subject. You are both facing serious punishment for directly flouting expected conduct protocols. Apart from that, it is my assessment that you have made a very _personal_ vendetta out of your actions."

Deftly, and rather disdainfully, he raised a servo to the collar on Bumblebee's neck, delicately holding up the tag and giving the twins a pointed glare before reading it out loud.

"Property, of, Sunstreaker. You realise that even as a joke, claiming another sentient being as your personal object is a serious offence. And before you say 'it's only a joke', I will note that I am well aware of your ongoing… 'game' of baiting Bumblebee's intimate partners. Provocation of fellow crew members on a highly personal level is also a punishable offence."

Prowl paced slowly in front of them again, giving them cool, calculating looks, and if Bumblebee wasn't much mistaken, the twins, for once, looked genuinely disturbed.

The spy was sure that this time they had pushed too far, and he really didn't know what was going to happen as a result…

Bumblebee glanced at Jazz, giving him a slightly alarmed look.

To his slight relief, the saboteur sent him the smallest hint of a smile, winking the side of his visor for the briefest moment.

So… Jazz wasn't that mad at him, apparently… maybe Prowl was just blowing off steam? He'd get punishment detail, but their relationship was still OK… right?

But what about the twins?

Prowl stopped in front of Sideswipe and held out his servo, expression stony.

"Give me the leash."

Sideswipe gawked at him for a few nanos before he dipped his servo into subspace and drew out the length of oversized, heavy duty leather.

He put it in Prowl's palm a little reluctantly, and the tactician merely wound it around his servo and turned to Jazz, giving him a brief nod.

Jazz moved away from the door and sauntered over to the wall, against which were the two chairs Prowl usually drew up to his desk when he had guests. He dragged them over and placed them behind the two frontliners.

"Ya both better sit down. We decided yer both better off servin' your punishment now. Servos behind the chair backs please."

The Porsche's voice was light and pleasant, but it didn't make the twins feel any less uneasy.

If anything, Jazz with a carefree attitude in a tense situation was usually an alarming warning.

They sat, sharing confused looks as they put their servos behind the chairs.

"I don't think THIS is in punishment regulations is it?" Sunstreaker said, voice a barely restrained snarl.

Jazz drew some cuffs from subspace and happily snapped both twins wrists into them, before fishing around and pulling out some steel cabling, which he used to secure the cuffs to the chairs.

"Oh, don't worry, it's all above board. We ain't gonna hurtcha. Well… maybe ya pride." Jazz said lightly, completely unfazed by the whole scenario.

Bumblebee watched the proceedings nervously, looking between Jazz and Prowl for some clue as to his own punishment.

Prowl's expression remained aloof and harsh as he moved to help Jazz push the twins chairs a little closer to the desk.

"Bumblebee, stand facing the desk please." the tacticians sudden, snapped order had the spy scrambling to obey.

He didn't want to frag his lover off any more than he already had. He felt ashamed as pit for not even THINKING about what his actions would do to the tactician when he rushed the Decepticon lines.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised what a rookie move it was, and he knew he deserved the harsh reprimand… he was also able to read between the lines, and hear the un-admitted fear in Prowl's words.

He'd been afraid that he'd get grievously injured again. That, more than anything else, made Bumblebee feel the worst about his actions.

Everyone seemed to be patting him on the back and calling him a legend. He felt like scum now he realised how badly he had upset his lovers.

He couldn't work out, however, why he was being made to turn his back on the twins. Did they not want him to be a witness to what they were going to do?

What WERE they going to do? Jazz said they wouldn't hurt them… was Prowl just going to give them some kind of intense lecture session? But then what was the point of him facing the desk, was this some kind of psychological shunning punishment?

Prowl wandered over to stand beside Bumblebee, side on to the twins, casting calculating, brooding optics over the minibot's frame. He seemed to run the leash distractedly though his servos, folding one end to the other to make a loop, which he twined the digits of his other servo through curiously.

He turned his cool gaze on the twins, noting Jazz's eager grin and nod of encouragement from where he stood behind the two chairs, leaning on the backrests.

"You needn't ask how I know about your little 'contest' of sorts with the mechs involved with Bumblebee. I can tell you, however, that you have _lost_."

Prowl's voice gave nothing away. It was as strict and curt as ever when addressing the troublemakers, but Bumblebee got a sudden inkling of what might be happening…

"Rest assured, they did not take your challenge lightly. I must say, you two are not very intelligent gamblers, going up against mechs who's identity you don't even know. But the point is mute. This all ends here, and now. Bumblebee, please lean over the edge of the desk."

A shiver ran down the minibot's spinal strut.

Twin voices raised in protest.

Jazz was the one to silence them. "Both o'ya shut up. Prowl knows what he's doin'"

"What, _molesting_ a crew member?" Sunstreaker spat, disgusted.

"Yea, don't touch him, who do you think you are? You can't just use your authority to rape him!" Sideswipe snarled.

Both twins were silenced by sharp pinches to sensitive helm appendages.

"Ah said, _shut up,_ and cool your pistons. We aint gonna do anything to Bee he don't want." Jazz growled.

The twins reluctantly sat in fuming, incredulous silence, glaring at Prowl murderously as he calmly waited for them to settle down.

"Bumblebee. You are aware this is as much your punishment as theirs, are you not?" Prowl asked coolly, ever the professional.

Bumblebee nodded demurely, fairly sure he was catching on to what Prowl and Jazz had planned, not quite believing it… but not particularly adverse to the idea.

"Ground rules. You are not to touch unless I say you can touch. You will do exactly what I tell you to do, whatever it is, and you will refer to me as SIR, at all times. That goes for Jazz as well. Understood?"

Bumblebee suppressed a shiver of anticipation and nodded again.

He cried out softly in surprise when something smacked hard against his aft. It didn't hurt… but it definitely got his sensors to pay attention. It took him a moment to realise Prowl had flayed the folded leash across his aft plating.

"You will answer with a _Yes sir,_ or _No sir,_ when we ask you a question. Is that clear?" Prowl's cold tone now held something else… a kind of subtle promise that had the minibot struggling to stop his cooling fans from turning on.

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Prowl slapped Bumblebee's aft with the leash, the minibot gasping and shivering with clear pleasure at the treatment where he was bent over the desk.

The Datsun had a hard time stifling a rev from his engine at the sight.

He turned his calm, practiced gaze back on the twins as he ran light circles over the spy's aft with the leash.

Both had open mouthed, disbelieving expressions on their faceplates.

Jazz looked as aroused by the position Bumblebee was in as Prowl felt.

"In case you two haven't realised it yet, this is check-mate." The Praxian said calmly, the hint of a smirk pulling at his mouth as he whipped the yellow aft hard with the leash, making Bumblebee hiss at the slight sting it caused his sensors.

He whimpered softly as the tactician's nimble white digits ran circles over the area a moment later, soothing away the edginess left by the leash.

"Wait, what are you saying? You trumped us AND Bumblebee's partners?" Sideswipe asked in confusion.

Jazz snorted and ran a digit teasingly over the horn on the red mech's helm.

"Bot, use that cunnin' little processor o'yours. Ah know you've got more computin' power between the two of you than that."

Sunstreaker's optics flashed and he revved.

" _No…_ You're not…"

Sideswipe got the vibe of dawning realization from his twin and had much the same reaction.

The deep, throaty laugh that came from Prowl made the minibot still bent over the desk edge shiver.

"And finally the credit chit drops."

"YOU'RE his lovers?"

The offended tone to Sunstreaker's voice made Bumblebee want to turn around and apologise, but he didn't dare move, not wanting to displease Prowl when he felt he had to make it up to him.

"Yep. And we don't take too kindly to our lil' love-bug gettin' collared, cornered, or claimed so brashly by the two o' you." Jazz rumbled, flicking their helms lightly.

"Hence, ya punishment is to suffer a serious revvin' up… not unlike that time ya locked Bee in your room with that toy wedged in 'is port. Mmmm had to give him a real good fraggin' to relieve that charge."

"Ooooh you sly turbo-rat… how the FRAG have you two kept this from the rest of the crew?" Sideswipe twisted his helm to try and catch Jazz's visor, but another hard smack of the leash across Bumblebee's aft had him looking around at the tantalising sight instead.

"Come on Sideswipe, give us some credit. The head of espionage, the chief tactical officer and a highly trained spy. When we want to keep something secret, it's not THAT hard."

Prowl's tone was as normal as if he were merely talking down to a naïve recruit, but as he spoke his long white digits made their way smoothly down Bumblebee's aft to trace the edges of his panel.

Sunstreaker glared at the tactician, slightly disturbed that the sight was arousing him, since neither he nor Sideswipe had been very willing to imagine Prowl in any kind of sexual situation. EVER.

Not when he was the main barrier to much of their mischief. Nothing involving Prowl was FUN… or pleasurable… unless it was pranking the officer.

And it sure as PIT was never sexy.

Nope.

He totally wasn't fighting to stop his cooling fans from turning on because the black and white was whipping Bumblebee like some kind of professional dominator…

_Slag almighty._

Jazz chuckled behind them. "You two only brought this on yourselves y'know. Gotta take what you dish out."

Prowl revved and pressed harder against the seams of Bumblebee's codpiece, rubbing up and down as he delivered another blow with the leash, making Bumblebee whimper needily.

The spy had no doubt the SIC was using the fact he'd just had two overloads to his advantage, teasing already over-receptive sensors mercilessly.

"So what are you going to do that's going to, apparently, checkmate us in this fight for Bumblebee's attentions?" Sideswipe asked with no lack of shrewd sarcasm.

He put on the front of being unimpressed with the current effort, but silently he was wondering across the twin bond why he and his brother were suddenly being kinda turned on by Prowl.

"Well, since you seemed so keen to openly claim him in front of us… we surmised that it was only fair to play by the same rules, and claim him right back. And to make sure you got the message, you'd witness it, in it's entirety."

Prowl nearly purred the words, finding the catch point of Bumblebee's manual release without even looking, showing just how familiar he was with the yellow mech's frame.

Bumblebee whimpered as the cool air hit his still warm components, and he shivered, legs spreading slightly in anticipation as the loop of the leash was run over his spike housing and valve.

The odd texture was so different to the touch of metal digits. Not quite cold, but soft and almost like rubber.

A moment later, the leash was flayed over his aft, right near his open port, and he couldn't help the squeak that escaped him.

That had been so close… what if it hit his equipment? Would it hurt or…

Bumblebee found just the thought of it made his temperature rise a degree.

It wouldn't hurt as much as it might feel good. It was only leather after all, and he was mostly metal.

"Hmmm. You want me to use this on your open equipment, don't you Bumblebee?"

Prowl's smooth vocals caressed Bumblebee's audios the same way the nimble white digits caressed his back teasingly.

"Nnnyes… Sir, yes sir, please…" Bumblebee was slightly breathless, cooling fans kicking in with a whirr.

He heard Jazz chuckle across the room.

"Mmmm such a kinky lil' mini. Gonna give him what he wants Prowler?"

The tactician made a thoughtful noise, rubbing the whip lightly up and down the exposed equipment, satisfied by the revvs it pulled from the twins.

"He is being such a good, compliant soldier…"

Without warning, Prowl swiftly smacked the leash over Bumblebee's interface hardware, drawing a shocked but pleasured cry from the beetle.

Using his digits, Prowl gently ran circles around the valve entrance and spike housing, teasing before he smacked the makeshift whip over them again, harder.

Bumblebee whimpered and gasped, squirming against the desk. It stung for the briefest moment, but left the most delicious, unfamiliar tingle in its wake.

_Holy Primus no, I have a whipping fetish… slag almighty this better not get out, I'll never hear the end of it._

Bumblebee arched and moaned the next time the leash struck his equipment, bucking against the desk.

The twins watched in silent, aroused fascination.

There were absolutely no words, no witty remarks, not jokes coming to either of their minds.

What could they say to this situation?

How could they escape the fact that they were cuffed to chairs so they could watch the most arousing kind of punishment either had received…

Even the thought of arousing punishment was just too weird for either to process properly.

In the face of a free, albeit very _wrong_ in some ways show, they decided mutually to just switch off the thinking parts of their processors and watch.

After all, the minibot was positively mesmerising, the way he wriggled on the desk like that, valve and spike housing pointing right at them and looking so damn _needy._

The way he just let Prowl dominate him completely…

And slag almighty even Prowl was somehow doing the opposite of turning them off, whereas before the thought of him coupled with anything interface related had not been worth contemplating.

Not that they weren't perfectly aware of what Praxians were like when they were all fired up, but… Bluestreak was SO not the same as Prowl.

Except for the door wing movements. They were the same… and they were just as mesmerising to the two as Bumblebee's bare equipment.

Prowl reached down between Bumblebee's legs and pressed the latch buttons either side of the spike housing, releasing the minibot's cable. It extended quickly, already partially pressurised.

The tactician looped the end of the folded leash around the stiffening cord when it had fully extended, and rubbed it up and down it's length.

Bumblebee trembled visibly, whimpering with desperate pleasure.

The touches were so teasing… ramping up expectant charge without really feeding his hungry nodes.

He just wanted Prowl to grab his hips and frag him into the desk, _hard._

Apparently this was somewhat obvious, because Prowl chuckled deeply again.

"You want me to spike you Bumblebee?"

"Yes sir!"

Three different revs met his answer, and the leash was taken away from his spike, no touch replacing it.

"Please sir!"

The spy was not above begging in this situation, and though it garnered more revs and a moan from Sideswipe, he wasn't doing it for their benefit.

Prowl leant close to his audio and murmured with undisguised relish.

"Tell me what you want Bumblebee... What do you want me to do to you, hmm? How do you want my spike?"

The spy shuddered, fans buzzing hard with arousal.

"Please… hard, just…. Fill me and take me, want you to claim me… sir" He fairly breathed the last word as an afterthought, playing along to the punishment rules, finding he actually quite liked them.

The question of trust never did seem to come up in his mind when Prowl or Jazz wanted something of him. Accepting their control was easy. And generally, very rewarding, and Bumblebee had to admit to himself that he loved every nanoklik of it.

Prowl revved and stood up straight again, tapping the end of the leash-whip against Bumblebee's port, making him whine needily.

"Get up and move to the side of the desk, stand with your back to it." Prowl commanded, his tone all business again, undercut by an unmistakably lustful purr from his engine.

Bumblebee complied as quickly as his shaking legs would allow him to, glancing briefly at Jazz and the twins, noticing how all of them had deeply blue optics and visor.

Prowl moved with slow, deliberate steps, and the spy was reminded why his name so suited him.

The Datsun went from languid, lazy movements to striking like a snake, and before Bumblebee knew what was happening, he'd been lifted onto the desk edge by his thighs, and made to lay back.

He gasped, a thrill of arousal revving his engine.

He heard the unmistakeable click of a panel opening as the tactician slipped between and spread his legs with his hips.

Bumblebee moaned, servos scratching at the desktop as he felt Prowl's open interface grind against his own.

The spy's optics flashed and he looked down his chassis at the servo that closed rather suddenly over his spike.

He was flashed an almost evil little grin by the tactician as his cable was squeezed and pumped hard by a skilled white servo.

Bumblebee moaned, helm thunking back against the desk as he arched into the touch, but as quickly as it came, it was removed, and he whimpered, looking back down his body at his lover.

Prowl's little smile only broadened, and he bucked his interface against Bumblebee's, gripping the black thighs.

The tactician was reminding him, always reminding him, that HE was in charge of the situation, and Bumblebee would get as much pleasure as Prowl was willing to give him.

Frag almighty, the beetle thought he might short a circuit with how much that aroused him.

Sunstreaker groaned, watching Bumblebee's tempting, rigid spike as it was rocked with the motion of Prowl's thrusts.

Frag, he hated to admit it, but even his aesthetic sensibilities were getting off on how good the whole scene looked. Black and white contrasting sharply against the bright yellow…

Bumblebee's wanton compliance and the SIC's absolute and infuriating control was, he had to admit, getting him off something fierce.

Except that he couldn't release his straining spike, and he couldn't touch them… couldn't touch _anything…_ had no way of expressing his arousal or satisfying the desperate desire of his rising charge.

He felt Sideswipe's frustration mirroring his own.

They knew, between them, that they had indeed been trumped on this one.

Prowl and Jazz were apparently the most cunning, and most sadistic torturers they could possibly have crossed.

Prowl gave them a knowing, smug sort of look as he reached between himself and Bumblebee, releasing his spike.

The spy on the desk hitched and spread his legs further in response, making Sideswipe bite his lip-plate.

Jazz, on some little physical cue from the SIC, moved from behind the twins and sauntered over to the desk, looking on the scene with a calm sort of anticipation.

"Hold him down for me Jazz. I don't want him moving." Prowl purred, kneeling down and curling his arms around the minibot's legs, keeping them hitched wide.

The saboteur chuckled and got on the desk, pulling Bumblebee's arms up above his helm and holding them down, grinning at the spy.

Bumblebee trembled in anticipation, and even though he knew what was coming, the first touch of hot, slick glossa on his valve still made him cry out and arch.

Prowl moved infuriatingly slowly, flicking feather light laps across the entrance to his valve, eventually making his touch harder, until eventually he plunged into the valve and pumped his glossa as deep as it would go.

By this time, Bumblebee was a whimpering, mewling mess overwrought with pleasure.

The stimulation was divine… it sent wave upon wave of sweet pleasure sweeping through his frame, but it was a slow build to overload, and nowhere near enough to push him over the edge yet.

When the tactician pulled back, licking lubricant from his lip-plating, the spy was a quivering, panting pile of hot plating.

Prowl stood, hunger unmistakeable in his optics, and Bumblebee locked gazes with him, the air between them thick with intense desire.

Jazz growled, drinking in the scene and momentarily forgetting the twins were even there.

He _loved_ this kind of interfacing… loved Prowl turning into the predator, loved the absolute desperate _want_ written all over Bumblebee's frame. He couldn't give a slag he wasn't even facing either of them, right now, he was perfectly happy just to witness what was perfection to him.

The SIC's gaze flickered up to Jazz's own, and a deliciously evil glint in his optics proceeded his next order.

"Swallow every sound he makes. He is _ours._ "

Jazz revved and grinned down at Bee, diving to claim his mouth in a demanding, upside down kiss just as Prowl plunged into the minbot's valve.

The yellow mech arched and cried out, the sound muffled by the saboteur's eager lip-plates and glossa.

Every sound thereafter that the spy made was muted by frantic kissing, and the loudest thing in the room, besides the clang of Prowl's forceful hips every time he thrust inward, was the rev of five engines.

The twins watched open mouthed, making little sounds of desperate desire as Bumblebee was thoroughly spiked by the SIC and kissed fiercely by the TIC.

Heat had pooled to nearly unbearable levels under their panels, but neither could bring themselves to protest or demand the three on the desk stop.

It was just too damn good to watch or want to interrupt.

After the build up to the main event, Sideswipe didn't expect the actual spiking to take long. But he was proven oh so very wrong by Prowl, as the Tactician slowed his thrusts right down to a pace that had Bumblebee keening and bucking, desperate for more.

The red mech was struck dumb by the fact he was watching the Praxian the most intently and getting intensely aroused doing so.

But… how could he NOT… the bot was dangerously good. Even when his door wings were screaming that he wanted to just face Bumblebee into the desk with abandon, he kept absolute control of himself, motions slow and deliberate, drawing out every micro-mechanometer of pleasure.

He had the yellow spy absolutely at his mercy, and Primus did he know how to use his spike!

Sideswipe watched as the tactician sped up his pace, fragging Bumblebee hard and fast, bringing him to the very edge of overload, before pulling back and slowing right down again.

This repeated three times before the yellow mech keened desperately, making the first real attempt to fight his lovers.

That was when Prowl let out a deep, guttural growl, slamming his hips hard and deep, running his servos firmly down the minibot's chassis before pressing his thumbs on two points around his midriff and magnetising into Bumblebee's socket.

The twins gawked as Bumblebee practically screamed into Jazz's mouth, the saboteur swallowing the cry like every other, growling his engine in response.

It was clear Bumblebee was overloading, and _hard._

It transferred straight into Prowl too, who bucked against the yellow hips and moaned as his release shuddered through him, rubbing firm circles with his thumbs still on the spy's midriff.

Bumblebee slumped, systems resetting from the force of his overload, fans buzzing loudly as the charge ebbed into a hot afterglow.

Jazz drew away with a pleased rumble, licking his lip-plates playfully.

Prowl released the hot-spots and held himself up by the desk, panting slightly through his vents.

The saboteur looked over at the twins, their systems loud and very obviously aroused.

Sliding off the desk, he sauntered over with a deep, throaty chuckle.

"Hmmmm you two look like ya could use a little help."

Stepping forward, the Porsche leant in close and ran a digit on each servo up the frontliner's panels.

Both mechs shuddered and whined at him needily.

With a wide grin, Jazz found their manual releases and slid back the covers to their interface units.

He then released both their spikes to relieved groans.

And then he promptly turned on his pede and practically skipped back to the desk and his two recovering lovers.

"Hey!…you can't leave us like this!" Sunstreaker tried to growl, but it came out as more of a whine.

The saboteur threw them a look over his shoulder easily as evil as the one Prowl had pulled earlier.

He put a servo on Bumblebee's helm, rubbing firmly at a horn and making the minibot mewl.

"Sure ah can. It's MY turn to stake a claim."

Both the twins and the spy quivered at the proclamation.

Prowl merely chuckled and started playing with Bumblebee's other horn.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens! Plot proceeds! First update in like over a year i don't even keep track.  
> Read foreword, it was too long to fit here, derp. P.S I'm posting this on the 25th here but AO3 is stuck in the past and will not allow posting in the future AO3 is racist against timelords this is unacceptable.
> 
> ACTUAL chapter summary:  
> Bumblebee's life continues to be a rollercoaster of events and emotions, culminating in confrontation and a night worth remembering that he won't actually have many uncorrupted memories of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU BRILLIANT FUCKERS LIKE WOAH. ANd thanks to Laura because she beta'd for me and got me to fix the formatting.
> 
> nO SERIOUSLY ALL YOU PEOPLE WHO HELD OUT HOPE THAT THIS WASN'T DEAD HAVE HELPED MAKE SURE IT ISN'T.
> 
> And yeah, long time in coming this chapter, and format changes because i stumbled across rules about english I forgot about and actually tried to follow them.
> 
> BUT YEAH there was a long long looooooooooong writers block on this at one point. Now though, I have like... ONE MORE CHAPTER OF THIS FIC. YEAH I KNOW RIGHT HOLY SHIT I MIGHT FINISH A FIC FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE THIS IS MONUMENTAL FOR ME OK.
> 
> Anyway, you people are brilliant for reading this hot mess, bless all your faces, I hope you like this next chap, if you want a clip of me voice acting a teeny part of it I have one, PM for a link, and also you need to have the Daft Punk song 'Digital Love' on standby. You'll see why.
> 
> Bands and singers mentioned at some point, no specific songs because I want you to choose for yourself, but an idea of the tone is all you really need.
> 
> ANYWAY YEAH IF YOU EVEN READ THIS FOREWORD YOU ARE AMAZING CAUSE I NEVER READ FOREWORDS CAUSE IM A DICK SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHRISTMAS PRESENT, AND HERE'S HOPING THE LAST CHAPTER DOESN'T TAKE ME TWO MORE FUCKIN YEARS TO WRITE no promises cause the muse is fickle.
> 
> KEEP ON ROCKING YOU BRILLIANT PEOPLE YOU.
> 
> ~Death out.

"Nghhhh… Jazz… c'mon… this is CRUEL."

The saboteur gave a deep chuckle, patting a thoroughly fragged Bumblebee on the helm as he sat panting and shaking in his lap.

Jazz gently lifted Bee's hips off his spike, the minibot whimpering as the familiar cord pulled free.

Jazz had been sitting on Prowl's desk, facing the twins and riding the spy over his spike so the twins could witness every thrust.

It seemed the beetle had gotten off on them watching him get fragged, if the sounds he'd made were anything to go by. The Porsche rolled to the side and lay Bumblebee down on the desk, face up.

"What, y'expect punishment to be easy Sides?" Jazz murmured in amusement, straddling Bumblebee and rubbing his spike showily against the minibot's, making him mewl.

A rev from Sunstreaker told him the torture technique was working quite well. "Perhaps, Sunstreaker, your judgment was clouded." Prowl said coolly, wandering over behind the frontliner. "I can understand your reasoning. I know the circumstances that have led you to… your current relationship with Bumblebee. And I am willing to forgive you that. However…"

He leant over the stony faced warrior's shoulder, murmuring beside a helm fin, venting on it slightly. "I am also aware of the kind of bot you are… and I'm sure you would agree with me when I say you would have done what you did on my desk regardless of your state of mind. There would never BE any hesitation."

Sunstreaker cracked a smirk, not looking at the tactician, who's tone was more playful than stern.

"Can you prove that, _sir?_ "

Bumblebee, even in a post overload haze, and with limited vision of the golden mech, could tell there was a strain to Sunstreaker's otherwise nonchalant tone that belied his arousal as being quite as bad as his brother's.

Prowl gave a small chuckle, leaning even closer to the helm-fin, nearly letting his lips touch it.

"I don't have to. You've both flouted the rules with your wash rack exhibitionism. That is quite enough to justify our punishment of you in this manner. Not to mention…"

Prowl moved away from Sunstreaker's helm, not missing the shiver his near-contact to the helm fin had caused.

"Sideswipe has built quite an impressive record in terms of fraternizing in inappropriate places."

He slid a thumb flippantly up one of the red twin's helm horns, making him moan and press into the touch.

Prowl gave a soft chuckle and moved around to face the two, his authoritative air somehow not spoiled at all by his open, slicked interface and half pressurized spike.

"The question is, how much punishment can the two of you take before you give in and provide a true apology."

Sunstreaker scoffed, the sound laced with static.

"And I suppose your idea of an apology involves us sucking you off, right?"

"Nope. Actually, our initial idea of an apology is you showin' us why Bumblebee keeps goin' back to ya." Jazz piped up cheerily, having turned around to face them. He was still straddling Bumblebee, riding his spike lazily. The twins gave each other wide optic'd looks of surprise.

~You think they're serious?~ Sideswipe, even over the bond, sounded both eager and extremely apprehensive.

~Not the point… do we WANT to be getting involved in this kinda stuff with them? They're our superiors… are they going to hold it against us forever?~

Sunstreaker, while undeniably interested in the challenge, was the most reluctant of the two of them. He was not sure he had quite gotten his helm wrapped around the fact Jazz and PROWL of all mechs were doing what they were right now, and in front of them no less…

~C'mon Sunny, they might be manipulative when it comes to stuff that isn't serious… but this is too personal, they're not gonna do something like that, they're both too responsible.~

Sunstreaker mulled that over before looking back up at the expectant tactician with a suspicious expression.

"You sure that's what you want? And it's not some kind of trick? Something to hold over us later?"

"You have my word, this is a confidential personal matter between the five of us. However, if we are not satisfied with your performance you will have to do wash rack cleanup duty the next time the Dinobots have a bath."

"We'll do it, let us goooo." Sideswipe squirmed.

"Good. But I'm not letting you free yet." Prowl smirked, wings twitching as both twins swore loudly.

"But you just said!-"

"Fragging liar! You're going to make us-"

"Mechs, calm your afts down, we'll letcha go in a bit, but he never said your apology would come now. We ain't done with y'punishment." Jazz purred, still rising and falling languidly on a whimpering Bumblebee's spike, stroking his own.

Prowl nodded, moving forwards and kneeling down. He took each twin's straining, twitching cable in a servo and slowly, firmly stroked them. Both twins arched and moaned, pressing into the delicious, long awaited contact.

After only three strokes, the tactician lightened his touches so that he barely held the two stiff cables, and teased them, both twins whining and trying to buck into his servos.

"You… you're… epitome… of evil" Sunstreaker managed to get out between grit denta."And you got lubricant all over my desk." Prowl replied mildly.

They both moaned loudly when the datsun palmed their spikes firmly again, only to dip his digits lower and tease their leaking valves. He went back to teasing the golden twin's spike when he tensed and looked uncomfortable at the port stimulation.

A loud whimper from the desk had the twins changing their focus back to Jazz and Bumblebee, the saboteur having moved again, now straddling Bumblebee's helm. He was bobbing his spike lazily up and down for the minibot to mouth and suck at while he lavished the beetle's own hard cord with attention.

The show had the twin's own spikes twitching, and Prowl brushed his thumbs ever so lightly over the tips of their hubs, electric charge tingling and arcing from their connection pins to his servo plating.

While they were transfixed on what Jazz was doing with his glossa to Bumblebee's spike, Prowl slipped a little something out of subspace and pressed it into Sideswipe's valve, making the red twin gasp and look back down. The SIC gave him a tiny, sly grin.

"Bumblebee did tell you he was off limits. It seems only fitting you be dosed with your own medicine, now that you are the one with his servos restrained."

Both twins engines stuttered and revved, but when the golden frontliner bucked up, Prowl withdrew his servo and bent forward to vent teasingly over the erect cable.

"NnnnghslaggitProwl!" Sunstreaker growled, glaring hotly at the SIC, receiving a heated smirk in return.

Sideswipe keened when Prowl remote activated the small vibrator he'd pushed into the red twin's valve. The red twin gasped and made a strangled sound, squirming in his bonds. "Gah… n-no way, that's…"

"The same vibrator you left in Bee when ya cuffed him to your berth. Surprised you- mmmmmm damn Bee, that's niiiice… ya didn't notice it missin'. Don't look so shocked, ahm the base's resident head ninja and Prowl- oooo yea, right there- is the head tactician. Don't think we didn't plan ahead fer something' like this. You were gonna get punished one way or another."

"You put… w-waaay too much thought into your punishments… haven't you officers got anything BETTER to do… than think up ways to torture your subordinates inappropriately?" Sunstreaker smirked.

"As a matter of fact, I do. And having to think up an appropriate way to put you in your place took up valuable report filing time."Prowl purred coolly, pinching the tip of the golden mechs spike and leaning it from side to side ponderously, earning a heated look and a broader smirk from the frontliner."And now I'm behind, and it's all your fault. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Sunstreaker's smirk turned into a full slag eating grin. "Suck it, _sir_."

The tactician raised his eyebrow ridge in response and removed his servo from the spike."Wrong answer." he responded flatly.

Jazz chuckled around Bee's spike as he bobbed his helm over it, the beetle keening beneath him. He pulled off momentarily to throw Sunstreaker an amused look.

"Oooo bad move Sundance. Word to the wise, don't make demands to the bot who's got ya tied up and can deny ya an overload."

The golden frontliner revved and gave him a miffed look. "Hey, you want me to 'apologize' right? Em gonna get an overload regardless."

"Don't be so sure. I know full well what your twin bond means for you during interface. I could easily just take Sideswipe's apology for the two of you and leave you with the overflow to get you charged without release."

Sunstreaker glared at the tactician, who merely gave him a tiny smirk of triumph. The golden twin was soon appeased when Prowl reached out to stroke one of his helm fins, thumb running horizontally over each slat and making him moan and lean into the touch.

His brother whimpered beside him, legs rubbing together, watching Jazz and Bumblebee and biting at his lower lip-plate.

Jazz overloaded with Bee's ministrations on his spike, staying still and trembling as the minibot swallowed hard around his cable. He pulled it free and sucked hard on the spy's own spike, sneaking two digits around to pump his clenching valve.

Bumblebee came with a squeal, unable to stop himself from bucking, but Jazz had a good enough grip on him that it didn't bother him.

Sideswipe moaned frustratedly, bucking into thin air, spike rigid and needy as his valve was tortured deliciously with his own vibrator.

Prowl ran the back of his digits up the underside of Sideswipe's spike, receiving a whimper from the red twin and a growl from the golden one.

It was clear Sunstreaker was being affected by his brother's condition, his vents panting and optics a deep blue. Prowl leant down so his helm was level with Sunstreaker's, servos resting on the frontliner's knees and sliding up the thighs to rest just shy of his pelvic gimble.

"I'll ask you again Sunstreaker. What do you have to say for yourself, disrupting my work and messing up my desk?" The golden warrior glared up at him from under the rim of his helm. There was an expectant silence between them, broken only by the ping of Jazz and Bumblebee's cooling armor, the whirr of vents and Sideswipe's noises of arousal.

"I'm sorry, sir… now for the love of slag just let me make it UP to you already." He growled through grit denta, looking away as his straining spike throbbed at the feel of the tactician's vents gusting down over it.

Prowl sighed. "I suppose that's the best I can ask for."

The Praxiun stood, turning his back on Sunstreaker, who made a noise of disbelief, which quickly morphed into surprise as the tactician spread his legs and leant back and down, easily lining his valve up with Sunstreaker's spike and pressing himself down over it.

The frontliner chocked out a moan and revved hard, arching his hips up to press in further, Prowl's valve a little tight around his cable.

Sideswipe watched in open mouthed astonishment as Prowl settled himself fully on his brother's lap and twitched his wings. The datsun settled his servos on Sunstreaker's knees for balance and ex-vented sharply as he clenched around the impressive girth, adjusting.

"Nnnngh if you want a proper apology, slagging well untie my servos!" Prowl threw him a look over his shoulder.

"Mind yourself, or I'll just get off and accept an apology from Sideswipe exclusively."

"No, he means… nnnnhhhh you're the same as Blue, right? F-frame wise… he KNOWS what he's do-oooing with door wings." Sideswipe panted heatedly, optics bright with lust.

"Mmmm that's a good point." Jazz hopped off the desk, where he'd left a now uncuffed Bumblebee to cool off and recover. He wandered around behind Sunstreaker's chair, giving Prowl a playful slap on the aft on his way past, earning him a rev.

Once his servos were free, Sunstreaker didn't even hesitate, golden digits tracing the edges of the splayed black and white door wings. Prowl gave a rumble of approval, pressing into the touches as he began to lift and rock himself over the frontliner's spike.

Jazz, meanwhile, had moved to straddle Sideswipe's lap, servos planted on the frontliner's shoulders, rubbing their spikes together and acting for all the world like he was a lap-dancer by profession.

The red mech whimpered and bucked against Jazz, sliding his cable against the black hip-plates."Mmmmm should I let ya apologize to me, or should ah letcha have a full dose of your own medicine."

"PleasefortheloveofPrimusletmeapologiseJazzohfragpleeeeease!" Sideswipe's rush of words was higher than his regular tone and barely intelligible.

"Tch, even I didn't beg that badly when you found me on his berth." Bumblebee chuckled from the desk, happily watching back now the tables had turned.

Jazz responded with a chuckle of his own, a deep one which ended in a purr of his engine.

"Whadya think Bee. Should ah have mercy on 'im, or let 'im charge up a bit more?"

Sideswipe whined and quivered as the vibrator kicked onto it's highest setting and Jazz gyrated his hips against his spike again.

"Mmmmm go ahead, I just wanna see his spike in you. You'll like it."

"Oh, ah don't doubt that. This'll be the first time ah feel it sober." Jazz snickered, raising himself and lining up with the stiff, eager spike.

Bumblebee laughed at that, lounging on the desk as he watched Jazz slide himself slowly down onto Sideswipe's cable, the red warriors optics brightening substantially. The saboteur certainly knew how to put on a show, but that didn't mean Prowl wasn't doing just as good a job with his own spectacle.

Once Jazz had hilted himself on Sideswipe, Bumblebee was having trouble deciding who to watch, trying to divide his attention equally and wishing he had four sets of optics.

Sideswipe sure hadn't been kidding when it came to his brother's prowess with door wings, if the way Prowl was arching and moaning was anything to go by.

For all that it had been Sunstreaker to commit the crime of taking him over Prowl's desk, Bumblebee felt Sideswipe was getting most of the punishment.

"J-jaaaazz… fragging… sonova… no fair… wanna touch… pleeeeeease!"

The panted pleading was met with a deep chuckle and a wiggle of black hip-plates.

"He has a point, Sideswipe was more of an accomplice." Bumblebee piped up in his defense.

"Aaaaalright, come untie him Bee. Ah was havin' fun takin mah time here." Jazz sighed in fake exasperation.

Bumblebee slid off the desk and moved to untie the red mech's servos. As soon as they were free, Sideswipe made a beeline, so to speak, for the Porsche's spike.

Jazz gasped and groaned, riding the red twin's spike a little harder as his own was pumped and played with mercilessly."Daaaamn Sides, forgot how good ya were with y'servos."

"Hey, I'm a walking arsenal, I'm a pro at handling dangerous weapons."

"Ooooh that was a baaad one Sides." Bumblebee groaned, reaching up to pinch a helm horn and making the frontliner chuckle and lean back into the touch.

"You sayin' it AIN'T a weapon? Ah…nnngh, beg to differ." Jazz snickered.

"Only if there's such thing as a frag missile." the beetle countered, peeking around Sideswipe to get a good look at Jazz working over the now lubricant slicked cord.

A sharp cry drew the three mechs attention to Prowl, who was being held tight around the middle as he arched forward in overload. Beneath him, Sunstreaker was biting the bottom edge of a quivering door wing and bucking up into the tactician, engine roaring as he followed into overload an astrosecond behind Prowl.

"Ooooh now that's a nice sight" Jazz rumbled, picking up his movements over Sideswipe and rubbing his thumbs over the Lamborghini's headlights.

"Aha… I'm the one… with the v-vibrator up m-my port and HE overloads f-first"

Sideswipe snickered between pants and moans."Oh ah think we can… mmmmm remedy that."

Jazz purred, placing his servos on Sideswipe's helm horns and kissing him roughly as he cycled the magnetics in his palms.

Sideswipe practically screamed into the kiss, grasping Jazz's hips and arching up hard in overload. He toppled into a second charge release when Jazz magnetized his socket, pulling his spike into a connection.

"Holy frag, that was… _impressive."_ Bumblebee murmured, leaning on the back of the chair and playing idly with the tip of one of Sideswipe's practically buzzing helm horns, making the red mech groan.

"How come you never used your servo MF generators on me Jazz?"

"Mmmm not safe. Frontliners are built to take punishment. They're weapons, ah can't tune 'em down enough to use on you n' Prowl, but Sides ain't gonna be more-n dizzy from 'em. Ah cooould look into getting Ratchet to give 'em a wider scope… if you're really that keen to feel 'em."

"I recommend it." Sideswipe piped up with a huge grin plastered across his faceplate, optics unfocussed.

"Apology accepted, _sir?_ " Sunstreaker murmured between laps against the bases of the SIC's quivering door wings.

Prowl could hear the smirk in Sunstreaker's voice, but rather than infuriate him, it only made his engine rev."Mmmmm only if you show me exactly what you were doing to Bumblebee over my desk."

Sunstreaker laughed, securing his hold around the tactician's midriff before standing and moving to the desk with him.

Prowl barely suppressed a squeak, door wings hiking up and quivering again as the spike still in his valve pressed up against his socket. He knew the twins were both much stronger than they let on, but sometimes he forgot just HOW strong they were. Sunstreaker lay him over his own desk with more care than he expected from the frontliner.

"I'm not going to be allowed to tell anyone about this on pain of permanent oil-tank cleaning duty am I?" the golden warrior murmured, unplugging himself to pull out and rub his still pressurized spike against the tacticians entrance.

Prowl gave a rumble of affirmation as his legs where held up and trapped at Sunstreaker's hips."I may consider allowing you to reveal it to Bluestreak if- Ah~… if it becomes relevant to do so."

"Mmmmm it just might. He's been getting a little more possessive of late. Me and Sides are cutting back on the berth hopping." the golden mech admitted in a murmur as he bent over and nipped a door wing.

He smirked at the way the SIC quivered beneath him at the attention. Praxians, it seemed, were a very responsive lot when you pressed the right buttons.

"So you are serious about being with him long term?" Prowl panted slightly, moaning when Sunstreaker lined up and thrust hard, hilting himself.

"Mmmmhmmm~… no more talking. Unless it's to scream my name… _sir._ " the golden twin rumbled over him, starting up a slow out, fast in pace and attacking the door wings with gusto, reducing the tactician to a keening, squirming mess.

"Daaaaaamn if I wasn't so low on fuel, I'd be going again just watching those two." Bumblebee muttered, engine revving slightly.

"With me or Jazz?" Sideswipe purred with a cheeky grin.

"Either, both, my own servos if I had to." The minibot snickered.

"While ah am partial to watchin you get y'self off, how about we go with the 'both' option?" Jazz chuckled, drawing a cube out of subspace and dangling it in front of the minibot.

By the time they were all done, Prowl was slumped in his desk chair wiping lubricant off his faceplate, Sunstreaker was lying across his desk on his front, and Bumblebee was sprawled across Jazz, who was sprawled over Sideswipe on the floor.

The room reeked of lubricant, ozone and ionic discharge. As far as Bumblebee was concerned, it was possibly the best smell in the world. But they would have to wash it off and out of them and cover the remnants with polish or wax to keep their little tryst secret.

"So… I do hope you two have learnt your lesson about appropriate engagement with our minibot." the tactician almost drawled in a very lazy version of his stricter tone.

Sideswipe chuckled."Yessirrrrrrrrrr, no stealing the minibot unless I wanna get a spanking from you."

"And me. Don't think ah don't know how to deliver a decent smack to the aft." Jazz snickered, voice laced with a deep, sated purr.

"On a separate note Jazz, when's that party?" Sunstreaker mumbled, stretching his arms like a cat before folding them under his helm and peering at the saboteur with deeply azure, dim optics.

"Hmmmm gonna put it off a day, jus' t'give myself time to organize it properly. Plus Blaster said somethin' about not wanton' to have it before he had all his gear ready. Don't know what the slag he meant by that, ah mean he IS the gear, and far as ah know, he doesn't need repairs."

"Also, I take it you and Bumblebee have overcome the experiential problem? I haven't had a chance to ask since you used my office to sort it out." Prowl murmured softly to the golden frontliner as the others talked about party requirements.

"Yeah… guess you guys know about all those times Sides pounced Bee to uh… help me re-associate him with positive stuff, huh?"

"Hmm. I never actually minded about that, Bumblebee, after all, is a free mech. Despite our various claims on him, which he seems to like nonetheless."

"I still don't know how he's done it though." Sunstreaker admitted quietly after a brief silence while they'd listened to Sideswipe and Jazz bicker over decorations.

Prowl flicked his wings mildly in a 'please explain' motion, which the gold twin caught out the corner of his optic.

"I never felt threatened by him. It's weird, cause y'know, he's so _nice,_ like the carers were… well, most of them. Apart from that, I KNOW he's dangerous. Anyone Jazz trains is dangerous. And yet, he still doesn't scare me, at all. Never did."

"Well, considering your history, would you not expect more mechs to be frightened of _you?_ " Prowl asked softly.

Sunstreaker turned his helm to look at the tactician over his shoulder. "They ARE though, to a degree… but I guess not everyone is… what are you getting at?"

"Well, consider Chip Chase. You could harm him, you've shown just how capable of random acts of violence you are in his presence, and he has absolutely no defense against you. Yet he doesn't fear you, because he _trusts_ you. In the same way you _trust_ Bumblebee, because you know well enough that he's never done anything to willingly hurt his own."

Sunstreaker blinked at Prowl as he digested that."Oh… yeah, I guess so." He turned back to watch the others on the floor, Bumblebee having moved to grab them some more energon while Jazz and Sideswipe did scissors-paper-rock to decide who got to choose the initiation ceremony.

He was confused by a tinkling noise, until he realized it was the collar on Bumblebee, which he'd forgotten about.

"Guess I should take the tag off Bee. Unless you want me to change it to say 'if found, please return to nearest police mech'".

Prowl laughed at that, patting the golden mech's leg and pulling Bumblebee into his lap when he came to hand him a cube. "Much as I would like that, I think we had better just take it off to spare our poor spy the further humiliation."

* * *

Bumblebee wandered down the hall, returning from what had been a rather fun patrol with Wheeljack.

Without any Con activity in sensor range, they'd played. And Bumblebee had forgotten how much fun it was to play in alt. mode.

Why had it been so long since he'd driven and rallied and raced? He was quite filthy from it, given the recent rain and copious amounts of mud on their off-road tracks.

He didn't mind though, really. He was too high on life, and it was a good feeling. Especially when he considered his more recent near bushes with death.

_Not that I wouldn't die happy right now. All the same, prefer to live, more fun to be had yet._

He grinned, thinking of all the KINDS of fun he was yet to have with the two mechs that had become the center of his world.

Not to mention the satellites that were the twins, and all his friends. The fact all the tension around Sunstreaker had been resolved was probably what had him feeling so light, on top of everything.

Despite the war, he was pretty sure his life had not felt so full since he'd first been activated.

Of course, a mood that good could never last.

He walked into the wash racks in companionable silence with Wheeljack, the two of them just grinning (at least Bee knew the colour of Wheeljack's helm fins meant he was grinning).

The racks were already occupied, but given it was the mid-morning shift change, that was normal. Bumblebee merely headed for the closest vacant spigot, Wheeljack taking the one beside him, both of them greeting Trailbreaker and Hound in the next two spaces over from them.

"Sooooo Bumblebee, what's this I hear about you and Hot Rod?"

The minibot paused and tensed mid scrub across his chassis.

"'Breaker." Hound said in an almost exasperated tone.

"Aw c'mon Hound, gossip like this, I gotta ask."

"Gossip like WHAT exactly?" Wheeljack asked, a cautionary note in his voice.

Bumblebee turned a schooled, neutral expression on the black mech.

"Well, y'know… Hot Rod's been tellin' us how the two of you used to be an item. Y'know, before the war." Trailbreaker said airily, aware he was treading on slightly thin ice.

"Is that so." Bumblebee remained neutral, returning to his cleaning.

"What slag has he been spreading about Bee?" Wheeljack huffed, not hiding his feelings like the beetle.

"Weeeell he's made allusions to his uhh… berth habits." the black mech continued lightly.

"Allusions like _what?"_ The engineer actually growled, making the defense specialist lose his nerve.

An angry Wheeljack was a rare Wheeljack, but when he was, he could match the imposing nature of even Ratchet.

"Um… not a lot, y'know, not details, just uh… what they used to do sometimes in berth…"

Bumblebee decided he was not going to bother denying anything, since the damage was already done. He had enough experience and confidence this time around to best any childish mud slinging Hot Rod wanted to start.

After all, he was Ops. Information was his weapon of choice.

"You mean what I used to do to his spike that made him squeak? Or how he used to crash after about two overloads? Or maybe how he liked it when I-"

"You mean you two actually WERE…" Trailbreaker seemed shocked, both by Bumblebee's forwardness and the lack of denial.

"That depends, mostly on how he chooses to remember the whole thing. So IS that what he's been saying? Or is it more along the lines of how bad at it I was? How sweet and tight his favourite little mini's valve was."

Bumblebee threw the defense specialist a nonchalant, expectant look before squatting to wipe mud out of his wheel wells.

He'd also noticed Hound and Wheeljack looking somewhat dumbfounded and lost for words, but continued pretending there was nothing odd about the conversation.

"I…um… yeah… he did say something along those lines… the um, the valve… thing… not that you were bad."

"Well, nice to know he's changed his tune. Unfortunate about his manners though."

The humid air in the wash racks was thick with tension, which none of them dared to break as they got on with cleaning in heavy silence.

When Bumblebee was done, having seethed silently, with what felt like a lump of lead in his tanks, Trailbreaker spoke up.

"Bee, look, I know it's none of my business-"

"Yep. Sure isn't." He cut the black mech off with a hollow, cheery tone.

Trailbreaker made to say something else as the beetle continued towards the door, but Wheeljack held a servo up and shook his helm."Leave it 'Breaker. He's a private mech." He murmured, following his friend out without bothering to finish drying properly.

"You OK?" The engineer asked softly as he caught up.

"Yeah. It's just, I can't decide if I want to get him in his sleep or with an audience. Also, should I make it a vocalizer offlining hit, or just a straight up schooling and a punch to the face? Or just steal his spike while he's asleep?"

"You keep talking about that in those 'everything is perfectly normal' tones and I'm going to have to ask Jazz to lock you up before you do something you regret." Wheeljack gave him a sharp look, more concerned than worried. "If it were me though, I'd go for the punch to the face."

"Yeah I was leaning towards that. More satisfying." He nodded, still looking calm, but the Lancia had known him long enough to see the warring emotions behind the light blue optics. "Probably get in a codpiece caving hit if I can too."

"Seriously though Bee, you gonna be OK? I mean, he's way outta line, but don't let it hurt you, he's gonna get what's comin' to him if he keeps slag talking about you like that, especially if he says anything within earshot of the twins or Cliffjumper."

"Yeah, I know… I'm alright, I'm just… I'm so _done_ with him, with his attitude. He never cared about what he did to me, clearly, and he still doesn't, so I'm not going to invest any more emotion in this than I have to. He's a sleaze, an aft hole, and I've done WAY better since then. If I don't give bots a reaction, they'll stop being so interested… hopefully." Bumblebee sighed, not sure exactly where he was going, since Wheeljack had taken over steering them through the halls, and he'd just automatically followed.

They came to the rec room, and Bumblebee noticed he was indeed in need of a refuel. He'd been too distracted to take note of his fuel gauge, but clearly Wheeljack had thought of it.

When they entered, the place was bustling with a little more activity than usual. Party decorations were going up, and Jazz and Sideswipe were in the midst of it, arguing again over the best layout for the balloons and the table arrangement.

Bumblebee couldn't help but smile slightly, reminded once more of what they'd done in Prowl's office, and Wheeljack relaxed at the bleed out of tension from the minibot's field.

"So how DID you and your duo-chromatic friends sort everything out?"

The beetle threw Wheeljack a small amused look as they drew up a few cubes of energon.

"There was a lot of exchanging of words… among other things."

Wheeljack canted his helm with a calculating look. "You mean… do you seriously mean… you lot didn't end up solving your issues with a love-in, surely?"

"Could call it that. There was still punishment involved, but by the end I'd say it was more um… what's the word… that Rungian thing… positive group tactile rehabilitation therapy."

Wheeljack's helm fins flashed a surprised pink. "Seriously? You mean… sir stick-up-his-aft even… you're having me on, you HAVE to be having me on."

"Well I'm not about to give you footage, but yes, Prowl was very much a part of it. Like I said though, there was still punishment, and it was more the kind that the Twins actually respond to, but everything is cool now. Twins know the whole deal, Prowl and Jazz know the whole deal, that's one less secret I have to keep." he grinned and sipped from his cube, optics lighting up again with that impish happiness the engineer had noted from the start of their shift.

"Explains you being so giddy all morning. I think I like what this p.g.t.r.t does for you. You should have regular sessions. Bet it mellows Prowl right out too. Might wanna find a better acronym for it though."

Bee shrugged and grinned. "Prowl is actually quite mellow MOST of the time, but it might be a new way for the Twins to apologise when they do something stupid to stress him out. And yeah, it does. Should just call it T.G.P for tactile group therapy."

Wheeljack laughed at that. "Shhhh don't tell me that or I'll be asking them to 'de-stress' him for me before I tell him when I do something stupid. Heh, hey, by the way... has Sunstreaker ever uuuuh... ever come to you with drawings... of what he wanted to do to you? As a way of suggesting you do them?" the Lancia fiddled with his cube as he asked.

Bee canted his helm curiously at the engineer. "Nooooo... why do you a- wait did he do that to you?"

"Damn, can't get anything past you can I." Wheeljack chuckled, rubbing the back of his helm, lights flushing an embarrassed orange colour.

"Ooooh now you HAVE to spill the beans. When did he do that?" Bee centered all his attention on his friend, grin plastered on his face.

"Uhhhh couple weeks back now? He and Sideswipe just came up and showed me a datapad in my lab. It was full of all these sketches Sunstreaker had done of me with them in uh... some extremely creative positions."

Bumblebee snorted and giggled. "Oh Primus, how creative are we talking?"

"Well... at one stage I had to rig a simple pulley system to-"

"Ah, so you tested them out then?"

"...Fraggit stop being so good at your job." He grumbled with a hidden grin, sipping at his cube through the slot in his mask.

Bee mock pouted at him. "Seriously though, they didn't even tell me. I'm kinda disappointed now, I want some creative pose suggestions. Although honestly we end up in pretty creative poses anyway but y'know, seeing yourself drawn doing it is different."

"Yeah. It's a whole other level of kinky. But hey, apparently it was your fault, they told me you're the one who put the thought of doing me in their heads. Well, in Sunstreaker's head at least" Wheeljack snickered.

"Ooo... yeah, might have been my fault... that time they got me tipsy they asked me my list of the top five bots I would... y'know... and yeah you were sortofmaybeonit." he murmured sheepishly.

Wheeljack just rumbled a laugh. "Yeah, I figured I must be since the fragging incident. If it makes you feel any better... well, possibly more awkward, but I'm sure we'll get over it, you've always been on my secret list too. As a curiosity kind of thing. Just never went there cause, well..."

Bee nodded understandingly. "Yeah. We have friend chemistry more than lover chemistry. It's cool. Hard to be someone's friend as long as we have and not wonder at least _once_ what fragging them might be like."

"BeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEE tell your boyf- your boss he's being stupid, we TOTALLY need giant balloons!" Sideswipe's voice whined loudly across the room.

Bee turned around in his seat and shared a look with Jazz, the two of them not missing Sideswipe's near slip. No one would take it serious in all likelihood, but still. They might have to work on the twin's ability to keep a secret.

"Sideswipe, is Kup going to be at this party?" Bee asked.

"Yeah? He doesn't usually miss a chance to get a bit 'charged."

"And is Ironhide going to be at it?"

Sideswipe gave him a curious look. "'Course he is, he'll be drinking and playing cards all night like he usually does at parties, he even reserved a table."

"So, Kup and Ironhide, both at the party, both drinking, both doubly trigger-happy. What do you think they'll do if a giant balloon _pops?_ What do you think they'll do if several balloons pop? What do you think happens when big metal people are dancing around rubber filled with air under pressure-"

"OK OK! I get it! No balloons so there's no panicked shooty shooty. Geeeez, you think too much." Sideswipe threw his servos up in defeat. Jazz grinned and clapped Sideswipe on the back.

"I did teach him well. Anyway we don't need Balloons man, we're gonna have streamers for bots to throw around, and lots of human size balloons, courtesy of Carly. Those are hilariously tiny, and the pops don't set anyone off cause they're too small to sound like our gunfire. It'll be good 'Sides, nobody's gonna say 'that party was good, but it'd be better with giant balloons and silly string."

"Can I still bring that box of custom huge streamer whistle thingies?" he pouted plaintively.

Jazz made an optic rolling motion. "Aaaaahm gonna regret this, but... yes. Bring 'em. Gonna annoy the slag outta everyone with 'em, but if it gets too bad I'm sure Sunshine will go around dutifully destroying them."

The golden twin helping connect up Blaster's sound equipment on stage raised a thumbs up without looking around. "You know it."

Bee snickered and sipped at his cube. The light feeling returned, and he really, really hoped he could hold onto it a little longer this time before Hotrod or anyone else brought him down again.

* * *

"Ahm gonna kill him."

Jazz stood smiling and bouncing on his pedes as if nothing was wrong. The tone of his voice was even cheerful. Bee had picked up a lot from him, but Jazz was still the master of exuding one emotion while feeling another that was completely the opposite.

"No, you're not. If you kill him, I won't get the satisfaction of punching his stupid face in." Bee murmured at his side, arranging the bunches of Balloons Spike and Carly had brought with them.

He was the only bot around who could deal with the fiddly little strings on them and tie them to things without them slipping out of his hands and floating up to litter the ceiling. The amount up there was a testament to how many bots had already tried fruitlessly.

"Ah swear to Primus if he steps in here and starts mouthin' off aboutcha, he's a dead mech." Jazz continued to be all smiles, waving at Sandstorm and Springer as they wandered in together.

"And I swear to steal your visor for the rest of the night if you do that. He starts bad-mouthing me, I'll deal with it Jazz. Same way I dealt when he decided to corner me in the hallway. Besides, if YOU hit him, bots will think they can still start mentioning to me what he's been saying. If I remind everyone why they don't want to ask me about it by dealing with him myself, then that's two birds with one stone."

Jazz dipped his helm and shot Bee an 'I guess you have a point' look. "Can ah at least give him a good kick in the aft when ya done? Ah think it'll do him good. Bet Kup wouldn't disagree."

Bee snickered. "Yeees, fine, you may kick his aft. Once."  
He finished up tying balloon bunches to sand filled bottles that weighed them down. "So where's Blaster, usually by now he'd have music going and everything."

"Hmmm he said somethin' about makin' an entrance. Wants to impress the newbies. They still remember him as a superstar from before the war, he likes playin' to his fans." Jazz smirked. "Ah mean I don't blame him, but if he thinks he ain't gonna cop flack from the regular crew for showboatin' he's got another thing comin'."

"Yeah, well, they might remember him only as some kind of superstar, but he IS just a big dork who likes to dance in inappropriate situations. Kinda like someone else I know." Bee grinned and elbowed Jazz in the hip.

"Hey hey now, whadid ah do t'you huh?" He gave Bumblebee a melodramatic look of betrayal.

"Don't be dissin' the dancin'. Confuses enemies into dropping their guard. They get all caught up in how good I am and don't anticipate a foot flyin' into their faceplates."

"And you never covered this as an espionage technique why? Am I such a terrible dancer you never thought I would pick it up?" it was the beetle's turn to put on the melodramatic hurt face.

"Ha, no, but you n' Mirage never struck me as the kind of agents willin' to try it out in practice. Might have to spend tonight reassessing your suitability for learnin' such an advanced technique." He grinned, giving Bumblebee a look that made a shiver of anticipation run down his spinal strut.

The spy forgot all about his dread over HotRod's appearance for a few moments.

* * *

By the time pretty much everyone was there, Blaster still hadn't shown up. Even Prowl and Optimus had come along, the former having sequestered himself in a corner with Red Alert, Inferno, Ratchet and Skyfire.

Bumblebee had opted out of their gathering to play 'avoid red and orange mech as long as possible', which was actually fun to a degree.

He was the perfect social butterfly, flitting between conversations gracefully, all the while keeping a room's worth of bots between himself and HotRod without anyone being the wiser.

At least, he hadn't thought anyone was much the wiser.

"So why's my bug jumping around the room like his tyres are on fire?"

Arcee was behind him and looking both amused and expectant of an answer.

"Oh, hi Arcee." A quick check to make sure HotRod was nowhere near them and he settled in to talk to her, standing in the shadow of Hotspot just to make sure he was well concealed. "Y'know, it's a party, meeting and greeting and being a good host. All that stuff."

"Mmmmhmmmm. Wouldn't have anything to do with avoiding someone would it? Because that's what it looks like. I just haven't worked out exactly who you're avoiding yet."

He gave her an innocent look he was sure she saw right through. "Avoiding someone? Why would I-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as the room went dark and the music stopped. There was a hush as everyone wondered what exactly had happened.

Before even Huffer could open his mouth to complain though, spotlights came up on the stage area, which was really just a raised dias at the end of the room with extra power outlets.

There stood Blaster, wearing... shutter shades? Where had he even GOTTEN a pair his size?... and was that a guitar he was holding?

"Oooooh SNAP, that's what he customed from Wheeljack!"

"Got it in one. Isn't it a thing of beauty?" The engineer sidled up behind him, helm panels glowing proudly as one of his creations gleamed in the spotlight.

Bumblebee couldn't help but beam as widely as he knew Wheeljack was when Blaster put a servo in the air, several bots whooping and cheering.

Bumblebee was close enough to the stage to see through two other mechs and notice movement. Rewind and Eject scuttled around to man the equipment Blaster usually covered, a full cybertronian DJ setup. He'd never told anyone exactly how he'd managed to save the whole lot throughout the duration of the war.

No one really cared considering how good he was with it. He'd not been famous for no reason after all.

Blaster's servo came down on his guitar as he activated the photon beam 'strings'. In the background, Rewind and Eject started up the music. Daft Punk blasted from every speaker in the room, and someone was singing. It took Bee a few moments to realize it was Rewind, sounding extremely convincingly like the altered human voice from the original track.

Every anxiety over HotRod flew out of Bee's mind as everyone started getting into it, dancing and throwing their servos in the air. Jazz appeared out of seemingly nowhere, dancing around him and looking ecstatic. /Slagger really does know how to make an entrance/ he comm'd to the beetle, making him laugh.

Jazz only rocked out harder when Blaster began playing out the guitar solo. Bee spotted Spike on Optimus Prime's shoulder off to the side, recording the whole show on a camcorder and admonishing the Prime for bopping around and making his shot all wobbly.

The guitar Wheeljack had made was clearly much more than just an up-sized replica of a human guitar.

It had panels that were integrated into the design that seemed to be for controlling the effects, and an in-built amp to negate the need for chords or plugs.

And frankly, Blaster was _phenomenal_ with it.

Bumblebee looked around the room, astonished by just how MANY bots were up and dancing. It was so much like the old clubs on Cybertron before the war.

It took him a while to realize he was already dancing along enthusiastically himself, Jazz watching and grinning like a cheshire cat.

Shivers ran up and down his spine and in the midst of the music, and the dancing, and the look on Jazz's face, it felt like there had never even been a war.

When the song ended, there was uproarious applause and calls for more. Ever the showman, Blaster started up a new song, falling back into his old role, like he was playing a tour gig.

Bumblebee lost himself in the music, in the moment, and it didn't matter to him if he looked stupid or not. Arcee and Jazz didn't seem to care either way as they danced with him and jumped about like lunatics.

Bee beamed over at Prowl when he spotted him beside Prime, doorwings twitching in time with the music as he bobbed his helm and smiled back, watching them.

/No point tryin' to drag Prowl out here. He only dances to certain kinds of music/ Jazz came through on Bumblebee's comms.

/Don't worry, I remember what happened that one time you got persistent when he didn't want to dance. I prefer not to have a helm horn twisted off/ Bee snickered back.

He burst into giggles when the Aerialbots moved over a little and he spotted Perceptor and Wheeljack dancing away in their own corner. Wheeljack had always been a dorky dancer, but Perceptor, well... he wasn't bad, but he was very... unique.

/Is he a regular at parties?/ Arcee came over Bumblebee's comms, following his line of sight.

/Heh, not really. I suspect someone managed to get him drinking./ the beetle replied.

/They'da had to give him some of Ratchet's private stash to get him tipsy that fast. Lotta bots don't know it, but Perceptor has phenomenal tanks for High-grade. Neeeever challenge him to a drink off/ Jazz chimed in, smirking and shimmying between them.

Bumblebee giggled and went along with it happily, he and Arcee bracketing the Porsche as they

coordinated their dancing and got a few cheers from bots nearby.

Bee glanced back over at the corner with the two scientists and snickered. /Yeah I think maybe Wheeljack came good with Ratchet's stash there, he's getting pretty funky with Perceptor/.

/Think we should give them some competition in the funk department?/ Jazz responded with a playful lilt to his voice.

/Pfff yeah you can cover that one, you're the funk-meister/ the minibot chuckled.

/Oooh so you want the Meister to get his funk on huh?/ with a broader smirk, Jazz slipped out from between them. As if on cue, the bots around them stepped back to form a small circle. Everyone who knew Jazz knew his dancing face. It was like an extra light that would turn on behind his visor and he got that very specific tilt to his grin. When Jazz wore his dancing face, bots gave him space.

And Blaster, for his part, gave him a ripping guitar solo to dance to.

Bumblebee just stood on the edge of the circle, bouncing on his pedes and smiling so broadly the actuators in his faceplate were starting to ache. He didn't care at all. He was enraptured by Jazz and his co-ordination as the saboteur began to breakdance.

He'd seen humans do it plenty of times, but for Cybertronians it was another feat entirely. Jazz was one of the few able to even attempt it.

Gyroscopes were usually pretty hardy parts of their anatomy, but spinning that much and changing orientation that fast required top notch components. If you only had a standard gyro setup, you'd be flat on the floor with your orientation systems rebooting after the first ten spins.

But Jazz had software specifically designed to keep his gyros up to speed on what he was doing in relation to local gravity fields.

Which was why he was able to do a spinning handstand for about half a minute straight. Bots all around where whooping and cheering him on.

Bumblebee glanced over at Prowl and did a double-take. The Datsun wasn't over by Optimus but right behind him, watching Jazz and smiling wider than the minibot had ever seen him smile.

As soon as the song ended and Jazz was back on his feet, taking a bow as flamboyantly as he could, Blaster started up a new song. Bumblebee blinked. Had Prowl just...

He glanced behind him, then back on the floor, just to confirm that his optics weren't lying to him.

Yes, Prowl was indeed in the middle of the circle with Jazz now. And there was something very intense and deliberate and... electric between them. Clearly Blaster knew EXACTLY what type of music Prowl danced to, because it seemed fairly clear the SIC was ready and willing to do so.

And Jazz too, but then he was always ready to dance.

Bee watched, engrossed as the two began to move. If it had been a surprise to him to find out that Prowl got his groove on to Black Eyed Peas, that was nothing to his dumbfoundedness at just how well he MOVED.

His optics couldn't take in enough of him all at once. And then there was the way Jazz managed to just fall into step with him as if they had practiced this a thousand times.

Well, for all he knew, they had. Just not when he was around. And if they HAD been practicing behind his back, he'd have to slap them both, because he could NOT take his optics off them.

He was deaf to the whoops and cheers around him, the only thing in his mind other than _Primus they are hotter than molten titanium,_ was _is it actually black eyed peas he likes or flamenco because I'm sure that's a paso-doble he's doing and wow I really don't care because how the hell am I being turned on by the way his doorwings twitch dammit._

A laugh beside him did manage to catch his attention, because the tone of Arcee's laughter hit a deep and fond chord in him.

"Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor there Bee."

Feeling his face flush furiously with heat, he shut his mouth fast enough for his denta to clunk together and looked around nervously to see if anyone had noticed him openly gawking.

Thank Primus cybertronians didn't suffer the issues Spike had told him about. He had no doubt if he was a human male he'd have no hope of hiding just how aroused the little show was getting him.

He was also very glad everyone seemed too focused on Jazz and Prowl to notice his reactions to them. He still couldn't look away, swaying and gusting air through his vents as Prowl dipped Jazz and the saboteur looked about a nanosecond away from snogging him, instead winking and doing a back flip around the arm supporting his back.

Prowl went with the motion, the dance flowing seamlessly, a twining, heated series of intense gazes and intimate brushes between the two.

When the music stopped, the two were flush together, looking as if they didn't even hear the crowd roaring around them with applause. And then those bright, intensely heated gazes shifted to him, and Bumblebee felt like his knees were going to malfunction.

As it was, they nearly buckled when a servo dropped onto his shoulder and a familiar engine revved beside him.

Bumblebee looked up slightly alarmed, Sunstreaker smirking down at him, Sideswipe coming up on his other side, wearing an identical smirk.

"I think we have ourselves a throwdoooooooown!" Blaster called over the whooping crowd of bots now making room around the twins.

Bumblebee found himself in the spotlight suddenly, stuck between the red and gold brothers as a heavy base line began to reverberate through the floor, Missy Elliot apparently what Blaster thought was best for this situation.

He gave Prowl and Jazz an alarmed look, which he then turned on the twins. Their smirks were full blown cheshire grins to rival even Jazz's most mischievous look.

Before he knew it, the spy found himself the center of a dance not unlike something he'd seen on early morning music programs the humans ran.

The weirdest part of this was that this wasn't the first time this had happened. More than once, the twins had made him the center of their dirtiest dancing.

But they'd also done it to other bots, and for the sole purpose of teasing the slag out of bots that didn't ever stick themselves in the dancing spotlight. No one had ever made fun of bots hauled up by the two, it was something of a right of passage, and generally harmless if not amusing for those watching.

The difference in this instance was that Bumblebee wasn't standing there laughing nervously and trying to slip free and escape. No, he was trying not to watch too intently, faceplates burning with the heat of arousal.

Prowl and Jazz had visually worked him up, and now he had the heat of two extremely powerful, beautiful bodies twisting and thrusting around him.

Like a deer in headlights, he stood stock still, unsure exactly how to handle his mental boner. His instincts were telling him to flee from the spotlight and his training was telling him to make the situation work in his favour.

The bots around them were jeering, whooping and heckling... except when he listened, they weren't shouting anything derogative at all... they all sounded like they wanted him to stop holding out and just dance.

He looked over at Jazz, who was bopping along to the music. His comm buzzed to life.

/C'mon bug. Y'wanted to show me you could master the meister technique. Zone out the bots around you and tune into the music/.

Either Blaster was psychic, or Jazz had sent him a line on a private comm, but the music was shifted smoothly from the heavy hip hop pulse into something that got the nodes in Bumblebee's legs firing as if they had their own consciousness.

Oooo Jazz had to have told the boombox what kind of music he couldn't stop himself moving to. It was like a switch had been flicked in his head. Flustered embarrassment and reluctance melted away.

The twins dancing shifted style as the music changed, complex layers of electronic sound and rhythm kicking Bumblebee into gear.

The tables had been turned. The small yellow spy now had the lead, music flowing through his mind and setting his spark alight, body moving to express the intensity of the resonance between the sound waves and his spark pulse.

The crowd on the dance floor was going absolutely mental, aerialbots hollering and Bluestreak wolf-whistling, all the while Bumblebee let himself get lost in the moment, playing up his enthusiasm as a show, but he could see the lust in Sunstreaker's eyes as they danced together, Sideswipe bracketing the minibot between them.

He glanced over at Prowl and Jazz as the twins got on their knees and rolled their hips in moves that looked downright illegal.

Prowl's jaw was hanging open, and Jazz was biting his lip as if debating the wisdom of his encouragement and contemplating going over there to extract his little spy from the twin's clutches. Bumblebee winked at him cheekily and merely put on even more of show, solely for his lover's benefit.

Everyone around them had become too engrossed in their own dancing and little groups to pay the exchange much mind. If they even noticed it at all in the noise and the laser lighting.

The twins laughed when Jazz did actually move towards them, scattering after giving Bumblebee a brief grope and honing their sights in on Bluestreak instead.

Before Jazz could actually reach Bumblebee, the beetle found a large red and orange mass between him and the oncoming saboteur he'd been about to try and entangle himself with.

The high of his mood evaporated in an instant, and he turned his face up to greet HotRod's.

The look he'd found so appealing on Sunstreaker's face moments ago now disgusted him coming from the flame painted mech.

As if completely oblivious to the icy look being shot up at him, HotRod began trying to engage him in a similar bout of grinding.

Several emotions raced through Bumblebee's mind and spark, the main one being offense. He'd just been relaxing into really enjoying the party and this bot had the nerve to push his unwanted attention on him when he'd made it QUITE clear what his attitude towards him was.

Along with the offense was a healthy strain of anger, but he was still running on espionage lines of code from Jazz's prompting to put on a show. He used this and HotRod's over-eagerness to his advantage.

He cocked an orbital ridge at the red and orange bot, leading him through the crowd and throwing Jazz a look to relate to him that he had the situation under control.

The saboteur gave him a nod and a hand signal for 'call if you need me'. Bee acknowledged, attention back on HotRod, who had clearly missed all of the little exchange.

Bumblebee walked with a swing in his hips to keep up the illusion that he wanted HotRod to follow him out, and it worked.

Once outside the common room, Bumblebee transformed and took off, hearing the other bot follow suit, engine revving eagerly.

Bee headed for the sparring room. If things got heated (And not in the way he was sure HotRod thought they were going to) he wouldn't hurt the mech TOO badly in the padded training area.

HotRod fishtailed and came irritatingly close to his bumper as he chased him along the halls. Bumblebee often regretted not having a more powerful engine, and now was one of those times.

He was quick, but he lacked the real horsepower bots like Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had. HotRod had always been a speedster, and clearly time had not tempered his pistons.

When they reached the training room, Bee transformed up and ducked in, waiting for HotRod to follow and shutting the door behind them.

The flame painted mech transformed up and gave him an eager look. "Knew you'd come around again. Hard to resist huh? Just took a little time to remember what it was like... mmmm it's been a loooong time and I have neeever forgotten you-"

"Shut up." Bee spat, dropping his guise of attraction and leveling HotRod with a hard, disgusted look. It was enough to make the larger mech stop in his advance towards the yellow mini.

"Woah... no need for THAT, you brought ME here, I ASSUMED-"

"You assumed wrong. I brought you here so I could settle this with PRIVACY and DIGNITY. What the ever-loving slag is WRONG with you?" Bumblebee snarled, taken aback by the amount of venom in his own voice.

"MY problem? I'm not the one playing hot and cold. What are you, touched in the head? That explosion rattle your brain module or something? Cause I'm cool with getting kinky, but I need to know the game if I'm going to play it." he crossed his arms, a slight smirk creeping onto his face.

"ENOUGH! Enough with this... this facade or whatever it is Ignitor... HotRod... whatever, this isn't a GAME. You know damn well what you did! Why the SLAG you think I'm even _remotely_ interested in you after what you did astounds me."

Bumblebee watched as HotRod's face seemed to crumple in on itself. But rather than guilt, or anger... his expression morphed into hurt... he looked CRUSHED, and that was not something he'd accounted for.

All the same, if this was a ploy to appeal to his sympathetic side, he wasn't going to stand for it. Not with the anger boiling out of the old wounds opening in his spark and simmering to the surface.

"What _I_ did to you? YOU ran off on ME! If anyone should be indignant here it's ME!" If the hurt in the red and orange mech's voice was fake, he was a damn good actor.

Bumblebee stared at him, dumbfounded. He sighed harshly and rubbed at his temple in frustration.

"Are we even remembering the same situation here? Because I'm pretty damn sure I'm the one who was publicly humiliated, who's work colleagues harassed him after YOU told them all about our private life. I'm failing to see how me leaving to escape the constant hounding from my co-workers was worse for you than it was for me. I always assumed you'd done it deliberately, after all, I WAS just a BET to you."

The look of dawning comprehension only made the hard, icy pain in Bumblebee's spark increase. All this time, and the mech who'd forced him to move out of his own home hadn't even known he'd done it.

Now he was angry AND confused, and he loathed it. The urge to hit something was certainly rising, and it would be a struggle to aim for one of the practice dummies and not HotRod's face.

"They... what? I didn't... I mean, I know now I'm older that I probably shouldn't have told them the things I did, I was just making conversation and I went a bit far, I never thought they'd... I thought they were your friends?"

"Yeah, so did I" Bumblebee spat, emotions getting the better of him, voice rising. "Not going to thank you for revealing how very much NOT my friends any of them were, if you're expecting that. I know you and I were young then, but for Primus sake, how STUPID do you have to be to talk about what you do in berth with the mech who thought you loved them? What kind of IDIOT... they were my friends so far as I knew, you... you didn't even know them, and you humiliated me, I heard what you said, about us, about why you were with me, what you considered me, like it would impress them! Me being your stupid little... booty-call, tight valve, berth slave or something STUPID like that. I TRUSTED you. You broke my _spark_ , and I want to know _WHY_."

"BECAUSE YOU WERE MY FIRST AND I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS DOING!"

The two of them stared at each other in shock, the tension peaking and leaving an uncomfortable weight in the air between them.

Bumblebee blinked and mulled that response over through his rage fogged processor. The connotations slowly sank in, while the full measure of Bumblebee's experiences seemed to seep into HotRod's consciousness.

They stared each other down for what felt like an age before Bumblebee spoke. "You... your first what, exactly? First minibot? First non-one-night-stand?"

"I'd never interfaced with anyone before you. I removed my own seals, but I'd... never been with anyone. At all. I just talked a big game to impress MY friends. And they weren't good friends either. Yeah, OK, they put me up to a bet, and you were the first mini to walk through the door... but you were AMAZING. You were nice, and you were cute, and you knew what you were doing and you made me feel so damn good about myself and I kept worrying that my friends would eviscerate my reputation if they knew I actually liked you... and I was afraid of losing you... I ran my mouth a lot, that's what I did... I didn't know that you left because of what I'd said to your friends, I just wanted them to like me, and the only way I knew how to get bots to like me was to talk a big game, like I did with mine. I had no idea that's what made you leave. I figured you'd just... realized I'd never been with anyone and left because you thought I was pathetic."

In contrast to Bumblebee's confession, which had grown in volume as he spoke, HotRod's voice grew quieter the longer he talked. The flame painted mech no longer held the cocky posture and self-assured grin. He'd pulled in on himself, arms crossed, slouched, gaze averted.

Bumblebee now felt a gaping void where his fury had been, and it was an extremely uncomfortable sensation. And worse than anger, since he could channel that, but this... he didn't know WHAT to do with this.

The awkward silence stretched between them further as Bumblebee moved to flop down on the edge of the raised matting that made up the boxing ring.

"Well, this is a royally fragged up situation. I'm slagged-off because you broke my trust and told my co-workers things that made them harass me to the point of getting a job in a completely different city state to escape it, and you're slagged-off because I was your first and you thought I rejected you. Which has probably left you with some sort of abandonment complex. I think maybe we both got royally fragged by the whole deal."

HotRod seemed to deflate from his tense, defensive position, slouching over and flopping down on the edge of the boxing ring a good three meters away from him. "If I hadn't been so damn stupid trying to please everyone and 'be the cool guy', none of this would have happened."

"Yeah, and if I had gotten up the ball bearings to confront you about it at the time, I could've saved us a few million solar cycles of festering regret too. I think it's safe to say the blame is shared. Gotta say... still having a hard time believing I was your first". Bee murmured, giving him a sideways look.

"What, you never wondered why I came so damn fast all the time? I had NO stamina. Never felt anything but my own servo on my spike until you gave me that first blow. Tch, you didn't just blow my spike, you blew my _mind."_

Bumblebee groaned and dragged a palm down his face. "That... that was utterly terrible. I forgot how terrible your jokes were. Now you mention the lack of stamina though, a lot of things are making sense. Like how you seemed super nervous the first time you spiked me."

"Pffff forget super nervous, I was super TERRIFIED. I didn't think I'd fit, I thought I'd tear right through you if I went to fast, and the whole time I was worried you'd figure out I'd never done it before."

"Lucky for you, I didn't really have an extensive amount of experience to draw on myself, so I didn't notice. The only other bot I'd ever been with was Astra." he admitted, looking over at him properly.

The anger and the pain and the emptiness had left him exhausted, and in their wake with the new information and factors settling into his meta were shining a new perspective on the whole thing.

HotRod's actions were explained so well by the extreme youth and inexperience Bumblebee had not known of at the time. It was... relieving, in a way, to know most of what the red and orange mech had done had not been active spite against him.

HotRod looked at him with a weird expression. "Astra?... That's Arcee's old designation isn't it? I mean I know there are a lot of Astra's out there, but you two HAVE been awfully chummy."

Bumblebee just gave him a smirk, watching his optics widen. "Oh SNAP, Arcee was YOUR first?"

Bee snickered and nodded. "Yup. But don't go running your mouth about THAT, will you? I'm hoping that by now you'd know BETTER. Especially since I won't hesitate to school you if you start any of that slag again. This time around, I'm much better trained and experienced."

HotRod grimaced and raised his hands to wave them in a fervent negative. "NONO, that's... quite alright, I've already had a taste of the scary aft spy Bee, I won't say anything. But I mean... it's OK to talk to HER about it, isn't it?" he asked meekly.

"Yeah, assuming she actually wants to. I mean if she doesn't obviously there's no point pushing your luck, but she's probably likely to regale you with our dumbaft forays into 'how the slag do you do this right without laughing'. Once we got past seals, there was a lot of stupid giggling and fumbling. Got the hang of it eventually. Well, obviously, since I ended up teaching you what I learned from the whole thing myself."

"So, if you two are still friendly... and you took each others seals... why'd you split up?" HotRod asked curiously, the tentative edge to his voice still there as he tested the waters of how far he dare go with the mini.

Bumblebee shrugged. "We were always just... friends, I guess. Neither of us really loved each other in a lust related way. There was no urge to be anything more than just... comfortable with each other. And then we had our own lives to live, and those took us in different directions."

The flame painted mech nodded. "Ssssoooo... you and me?... What are we now?"

There was a very pregnant pause between them as HotRod waited expectantly, apprehensively, for an answer, and Bumblebee delved into his emotions to find one. Eventually, he could only draw one thing up from his processor when he queried himself on what he wanted them to be.

"... We're history. We're each others history. We can't ignore each other. But... we were both young, we were both kinda dumb... you more than me but I'm pretty sure you're younger than me so I guess I can excuse that... eventually. Anyway... short answer?... I think we can be friends. Almost friends."

"So... we're cool?" HotRod gave him a tentative hint of a smirk and Bumblebee returned a full one.

"Yeah. We're cool. But we're not fragging for the sake of nostalgia so you can stop thinking about asking."

"Dammit."

"Oh, also, by the way."

There was a clang that rang through the room like a bell and HotRod staggered forward from where he'd been sat, yelping in pain from the smack upside his helm. "I THOUGHT WE WERE COOL?"

"Yeah well... we are NOW. I can forgive you being an afthead when you were young, but THAT was for coming into this base and talking about us to the rest of the crew. Clearly you're still not past the young and dumb phase." Bee crossed his arms and gave HotRod a disapproving look.

The flame painted mech rubbed the back of his helm and looked sheepish.

/Ya good bug? You've been gone a while. Can't hear ya, but it looks like Red can cause he just wandered out with his 'I can't make out what that is I'm hearing' face and walked back in with his 'shouldn't really of heard that' face./

/Yeah yeah, I'm fine. We've worked things out. Going to head back now, I think he's got the message. _Finally._ I'll tell you all about it later./

* * *

"Ya jokin?" Jazz gave him an incredulous look. "His _first?..._ Well, guess that explains a lot at least."

Bumblebee nodded at the saboteur and sipped from his cube of high-grade. They were tucked away in a corner of the room relaxing, the music having taken on more of a 'sit and enjoy and socialize' tone than a dancing one. It had been several hours now since his one-on-one with Hotrod, and the party was well into it's last phase.

"Apparently so. Also, he misses my blow jobs. Go figure."

"That I can understand" Prowl said in a perfectly reasonable tone, as if they were talking about battle strategies. "So what is the situation between you now?"

Bumblebee made a non-committal sort of gesture, shrugging and waving his servo. "Not sure. Truce? Not quite friends but no hard feelings... much... anymore? We'll get to some kind of friendship eventually I think. For now we lick our separate wounds and give each other space."

"Bet he wishes it was a mutual licking of spikes not wounds"

"Jazz, how overcharged are you?"

"Weeeell on my way to an enormous hangover" the Porsche grinned, raising his cube and grinning.

Bee just snickered and shook his helm. "Also well on your way to progressively more terrible jokes."

"And what about you. Do you plan on competing with him in terms of drinking?" Prowl asked Bee lightly with a nod to his cube.

"Pffff like I could keep up with Jazz. I'm too much of a lightweight. I'll get as overcharged as I dare before I pass out and recharge 'til midday." he sipped from his cube again.

"Sounds like a good strategy to me." Prowl tilted his helm and sipped his own cube, doorwings flicking in time with the music and distracting Bumblebee a little.

He was snapped out of his fixation on the Datsun's kibble by a comm. From Arcee, of all bots.

/Hey Beeee, feel like meeting me in my new quarters for a little nostalgic romp? You can bring your two lover bots if you waaant~/

/My whuuu?/ He tried to play off his surprise at her mentioning lovers by exaggerating his overcharged state.

She giggled down the line, the sound still sending pleasant tingles down his spinal strut the way it always had. /Ooooh Bee, your crew might not have noticed but I dooooon't miss anything. I know your spymaster might be up for it, but I wasn't sure about your handsome praxun/.

Bumblebee did a small spit-take, the other two giving him surprised and curious looks. His optics went wide and he opened the comm to them. /HOW exactly did you-/

/Saw the looks you gave them. Oh, byyyyy the way, Hotrod's officially on my punishment roster for the next vorn. And you can stop looking so surprised, you aren't the only spy around here. Well... I'm more a scout than a spy, and he did come and TELL me, so I guess I didn't really do any sleuthing, but that's beside the point. You going to come with your boys and have a private party with me in my quarters?/

Bee looked around the room and saw her dancing. Not many bots were on the floor, most now sitting, drinking, talking or passed out. Except for the corner full of card players having a rousing game of 'snap!'.

Arcee therefore stood out extremely well, dancing away as if in her own world, looking far too enticing for her own good.

Bee looked back at the other two and raised an optic ridge expectantly. Jazz gave him a wicked grin and shifted his gaze to Prowl. "All up to you Prowler. Ahm in, even if you ain't."

"Let you have that much fun without me? Hardly. You are lucky I have had as much high-grade as I already have though. Also that I have read her personnel file extensively enough to trust her, and that she was Bee's-"

"Aaaaah shut up and let's get the private party rollin'" Jazz laughed, draining his cube and dragging Bee and Prowl eagerly over to dance with the femme.

* * *

It wasn't even a cycle later they'd found their way to the femme's quarters. And only three minutes before Prowl was leaning back against the edge of a berth moaning, Arcee on her knees and working his spike with her mouth with a skill the likes of which Bee didn't think he'd ever seen.

Jazz, for once, seemed a little off-balanced by this, not sure if he should touch Prowl, or Arcee, or Bee, or more than one, or just watch. He really wanted to just watch because... _wow._ She was forward. And Good. REALLY good. But then she made him want to touch SOMETHING, and his dilemma was deciding WHAT.

Bee solved the problem by getting down and under the berth behind Prowl's legs, coming up to work on Prowl's valve, the tactician crying out and trying to stifle himself with a white fist pressed to his mouth.

Jazz ended up taking up a post on the berth, dutifully working on the datsun's wings. Between the three of them, the SIC was overloading within a minute.

And as soon as she was done with him, Arcee pulled Bee into a heated kiss. Bumblebee groaned and gave as good as he got, memories surfacing. Really GOOD memories. He let them flood his high-grade fuzzed processor and his servos wandered, mapping all the new contours of her frame.

She smelt the same, even if she felt different. The longer, slender digits that traveled down his sides and began to grope at his aft and panel were both new and familiar.

He snicked open his panel as three engines revved in symphony with his own, and gasped against her lips as those long digits delved into his valve.

Primus but she had him shaking and melting against her in astroseconds as she touched him, rubbing and twisting and thrusting and frag, but he was already dripping with lubricant.

He barely noticed her lifting him up and onto the edge of the berth. He certainly noticed when she spread him with her digits and slid her spike in alongside them, making him cry out in pleasure.

He clutched at her frame, drawing huge gulps of air through his vents, fans buzzing. It was difficult through his overcharge haze to concentrate on finding her sensitive spots and touch her in kind. She didn't seem to care though, if her enthusiastic thrusting was anything to go by.

Bee let himself be laid back and pounded, Prowl's lips descending upon him, what he thought was Jazz's servo on his spike. Everything became one big, long blurr of pleasure. When he overloaded, he was vaguely aware of laughing about something, and then he was dragging Arcee's hips towards him and sucking down as much of her spike as he could fit in his mouth while Prowl tended her valve.

Jazz may have hovered to watch or been busy kissing Arcee, Bee wasn't sure. When Arcee overloaded, she ended up climbing onto the berth with them, and there was a very giggly, fumbled attempt at the four of them spiking in a group, with Bee doing Arcee, who was doing Jazz, who was doing Prowl.

Despite taking a fair while and a few clumsy attempts to get into a synchronized rhythm, the overload from that was powerful enough that they all ended up in a heap afterwards, the air full of the smells Bee had come to associate with the best of times.

While he didn't really like the vagueness that came with fragging while overcharged, there was certainly something to be said for the constant level of euphoria. Not to mention the company. All in all, he certainly wasn't going to complain about ending his night that way.

* * *

P.S. sorry If you sent me a PM or review about this fic and I never responded, I'm a dick and I suck at responding to things, my bad ^.^;

Also I have drawn pictures of Blaster with his electro-guitar somewhere but don't ask me to find them i have no idea where they are now.


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